AT/THE 

;AGE 

$ 

OF 
EVE 


BY 

KATE 
TRIMBLE 
SHARBER 


AT  THE  AGE  OF  EVE 


"  I — I  wondered  who  YOU  were,  too  " 


AT  THE  AGE  OF  EVE 


By 

KATE  TRIMBLE  SHARBER 


Author  of 
THE  ANNALS  OF ANN 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

PAUL  MEYLAN 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copy  RIGHT  1911 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


•  RAUNWORTM   *    CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    AND    PRINTFR* 

BROOKLYN.    N.    V. 


TO 

ANN'S  GOD-PARENTS 
LILLIAN  BYRN  HARRISON 

AND 
JOHN  TROTWOOD  MOORE 


2138079  ' 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I  ANN i 

II  THE  NEW  NEIGHBORS 16 

III  THE  BOOKWORM  TURNS 35 

IV  A  NEW  GAME 49 

V  PRINCE  CHARMING 67 

VI  NEVA'S  BEAU  BRUMMEL 97 

VII  ALFRED 123 

VIII  ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT 136 

IX  A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION 157 

X  ANN  RECEIVES  A  CALLER       .....  179 

XI  A  DRAWN  BATTLE 205 

XII  SHADOWS 225 

XIII  THANKSGIVING  DAY 243 

XIV  SOPHIE'S  STORY 262 

XV  THE  DOUGLAS  IN  His  HALL 287 

XVI  THE  IDES  or  MARCH       • 313 

XVII  MAYDAY 347 


AT  THE  AGE  OF  EVE 


AT  THE  AGE  OF  EVE 


CHAPTER  I 

ANN 

IN  beginning  this  record  I  find  that  it  is  no  easy 
matter  to  feel  at  home  with  a  clean,  blank  jour- 
nal. The  possibilities  of  these  spotless  pages  seem 
to  oppress  me,  and  I  am  weighted  down  with  the 
idea  that  my  opening  sentences  ought  to  sound  bril- 
liant and  promising. 

With  this  thought  I  have  started  three  or  four 
entries  on  scraps  of  paper  lying  here  about  my  desk, 
but  I  find  that  not  one  of  them  is  the  kind  of  thing 
which  would  make  you  bend  over  close  and  knit 
your  brows,  thinking  you  had  picked  up  Plato  by 
mistake. 

No  matter  what  lofty  sentiments  I  have  in  my 
mind  you  can  always  hear  the  swish  of  petticoats 
through  my  paragraphs  and  I  regret  this,  for  all  my 
life  I  have  longed  to  write  something  that  would 

I 


2  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

sound  like  George  Eliot.  In  the  world  of  books  she 
is  my  idol — my  lady  idol,  I  mean,  for  of  course  the 
dearest  idols  of  all  are  the  poets,  and  they  are  al- 
ways men. 

"George  Eliot  is  my  lady  idol  and  my  man  one, 
too,"  some  one  said  to  me  once  when  I  mentioned 
my  preference,  and  this  exactly  expresses  it.  When 
you  read  what  she  has  written  you  never  stop  to 
think  whether  it  was  written  by  a  man  or  by  a 
woman.  Even  in  these  days  the  women  who  write 
anything  worth  reading  do  it  so  cleverly  that  you 
never  for  a  moment  suspect  they  clean  out  their 
fountain-pen  with  a  hair-pin. 

How  do  they  manage  it,  I  wonder,  when  one  ad- 
jective too  many  would  brand  them  as  a  female  ? 

Yet  if  the  sex  does  not  show  in  the  writing,  the 
writing  always  shows  in  the  sex.  If  the  most  mas- 
culine man  on  earth  takes  a  notion  to  become  a 
writer  his  friends  all  begin  strange  mutterings  be- 
hind his  back,  and  before  long  some  one  has  whis- 
pered "Sissy."  Ah,  and  if  a  woman  by  any  chance 
decides  to  use  her  pen  a  while,  so  her  tongue  can 
rest,  her  associates  are  quick  to  pronounce  that  she 
has  grown  so  masculine  since  she  started  this  writing 
business!  Verily  the  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword 


ANN  3 

if  it  can  influence  sex  in  a  manner  that  would  turn 
a  court  physician  green  with  envy. 

I  should  be  willing  to  cut  off  my  hair  and  call 
myself  George,  Henry  or  even  Sam,  if  I  thought  it 
would  help  me  to  be  a  great  writer,  for,  in  my  soul, 
I  have  always  longed  to  write  something  so  great 
and  un feminine  that  it  would  not  harm  a  Trappist 
monk. 

Still,  the  setting  forth  of  these  wishes  of  mine 
does  not  help  me  to  get  started  comfortably  on  this 
new  record.  Do  you  notice  that  I  call  it  a  record, 
and  not  a  diary  ?  This  is  because  I  expect  to  write 
in  it  only  occasionally — skim  the  cream  of  events,  as 
it  were,  instead  of  boring  you  with  the  details  of  the 
daily  milking. 

If  it  were  January  first,  now,  I  could  think  up 
any  number  of  inspiring  New  Year  sentiments  to 
get  started  off  with ;  sermons  based  on  the  three  R's 
to  be  met  with  most  often  at  this  season — Regrets, 
Resolves  and  Reforms.  Sometimes  there  is  a  fourth 
R  which  follows  quickly  on  the  heels  of  these — Re- 
turns, to  the  old  habits. 

Here  it  is,  though,  midsummer ;  and  I  am  sure  it 
would  seem  to  any  one  looking  on  that  I  have  no 
visible  means  of  support  for  any  kind  of  journal, 


4  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

tucked  away  as  I  am  in  this  little  town  where  a  girl 
has  not  inspiration  enough  to  keep  her  shirt-waist 
pulled  down  in  the  back. 

So,  with  this  remark  about  my  shirt-waist,  I  put 
aside  my  longing  to  write  something  like  George 
Eliot  and  make  a  frank  acknowledgment  of  my 
skirts.  Right  glad  I  ought  to  be  that  I  have  them, 
too,  for  I  believe  that  if  data  were  plentiful  on  the 
subject  we  should  find  that  the  "mantle  of  charity" 
was  originally  a  skirt.  "Just  like  a  fool  woman," 
people  say  leniently,  and  are  willing  to  let  it  pass. 

I  am  a  girl,  then,  as  you  will  readily  gather  from 
the  foregoing,  simply  by  putting  one  and  one  to- 
gether— the  shirt-waist  and  the  skirt.  I  live  near  a 
little  country  town,  and  am  vastly  dissatisfied  with 
the  cramped  stage  and  meager  audience,  else  why 
should  I  be  keeping  a  journal?  A  journal  is  not 
nearly  so  much  a  book  in  which  you  tell  what  you 
do  as  one  in  which  you  tell  what  you  would  like 
to  do. 

Pray  do  not  imagine  from  the  above  that  I  am 
longing  for  a  crowded,  noisy  stage,  with  lights  glit- 
tering over  tinsel.  No,  I  am  not  that  kind  of  girl. 
I  like  a  play  of  few  actors,  but  where  the  things 
happening  make  the  veins  of  the  neck  stand  out ! 


ANN  5 

In  admitting  that  I  do  not  love  the  village  near 
[which  I  live  I  know  I  run  the  risk  of  being  consid- 
ered ill-natured.  It  would  be  sweeter  of  me  to  make 
it  out  a  cheery  little  Cranford  of  a  place,  where 
the  tea-kettle  steams  cozily  and  drowsy  tinklings 
lull  the  distant  folds.  These  things  do  happen,  after 
a  modern,  American  fashion;  and  the  people  who 
own  the  tea-kettles  and  the  folds  are  the  same  as 
other  people  all  over  the  world.  I  have  no  quarrel 
with  them.  Still,  I  am  forced  to  admit  that  time 
hangs  so  heavy  on  my  hands  I  wash  my  hair  every 
other  day.  Have  you  ever  noticed  how  often  a 
woman,  who  has  nothing  better  to  do,  will  wash 
her  hair  ? 

Here,  then,  is  a  brief  description  of  the  village, 
with  malice  toward  none,  although  at  times  it  may 
sound  malicious : 

The  surrounding  country  is  so  beautiful  that  if 
you  are  coming  into  the  town  on  the  train  you  are 
ill-prepared  for  the  hideous  little  railway  station, 
which  is  the  first  shock  you  receive.  The  floor  of 
this  "depot"  is  dirtier  than  anything  else  on  earth 
could  be,  save  the  post-office  floor,  and  there  is  a 
rusty  little  stove  in  the  middle  of  the  room  close  to 
the  box  of  sand,  around  which  tobacco  juice  is  be- 


6  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

ing  eternally  spit,  spat,  or  whatever  is  the  correct 
form  of  that  unlovely  verb. 

Clbs'e  to  the  station  are  the  livery  stables,  but  we 
shall  pass  by  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and  farther  up 
the  street  is  the  Racket  Store.  Sometimes  this  place 
has  a  very  handsome  clerk  from  the  city ;  it  is  then 
a  busy  market.  Across  the  street  from  the  hotel  is 
the  millinery  establishment,  and,  if  you  are  on  good 
terms  with  the  milliner,  she  invites  you  to  come  and 
sit  at  her  front  window  some  mornings  just  after 
the  eleven-o'clock  train  has  com$,  so  you  can  get  a 
good  view  of  the  interesting  drummers. 

Most  of  the  local  attractions  in  the  way  of  young 
men  are  sturdy  farmers,  who,  like  June-bugs,  appear 
for  only  a  few  months  every  summer.  The  others, 
dry  goods  clerks,  bookkeepers  and  professional 
whittlers,  usually  line  up  on  the  back  benches  at 
church  on  Sunday  evenings  and  cause  mild  panics 
in  the  breasts  of  the  unescorted  girls  present,  whose 
hearts  palpitate  painfully  during  the  benediction. 

But  here  I  have  set  forth  the  doings  of  Sunday 
evening  before  mentioning  the  events  of  the  after- 
noon, which,  while  not  exciting,  are  in  a  way  more 
characteristic  than  those  of  any  other  time.  If  the 
day  is  fine  the  country  roads  blossom  forth  at  irregu- 


ANN  7 

lar  intervals  with  young  couples  out  driving  or  walk- 
ing, close  to  Nature's  heart,  yet  caring  far  less  for 
her  beauties  than  for  the  sight  of  each  other,  which, 
after  all,  is  nature.  If  there  is  any  one  in  the  town 
sick  enough  for  his  neighbors  to  be  really  concerned 
about  him,  on  Sunday  afternoon  the  sick  one's 
house  is  swarming  with  a  crowd  sufficient  to  fur- 
nish forth  a  funeral.  This  is  not  called  "profaning 
the  Sabbath,"  but  it  ought  to  be. 

On  rainy  days,  or  even  on  fine  ones,  the  inhab- 
itants who  are  too  old  to  be  a-lovering  usually  sit 
around  and  go  to  sleep  in  their  chairs,  with  their 
mouths  wide  open.  Besides  being  ungraceful,  this 
is  an  invitation  to  tonsilitis.  Dear  me!  I  have 
misspelled  that  word  again,  for  Doctor  Osier  says 
there  are  two  1's  in  it,  and  I  am  sure  there  are— in 
the  kind  I  had  last  Christmas ! 

Somewhere  in  the  early  fall,  about  the  time  for 
green  tomatoes  to  be  made  up  into  pickle,  there  is 
the  excitement  of  seeing  the  new  public  school 
teachers  file  into  town,  and  if  you  happen  to  be 
buying  a  hat  at  the  millinery  store  any  time  within 
the  next  few  weeks  you  can  hear  a  complete  de- 
scription of  each  teacher.  One  paints  her  face  until 
it's  mottled,  you  are  told;  another  has  blond  hair 


8  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

and  brunette  eyebrows,  so  she  must  have  been  on 
the  stage;  a  third  evidently  has  seen  "better  days," 
for  she  wears  a  diamond  ring  on  her  little  finger! 
There  is  only  one  more  astonishing  thing  than  the 
way  the  women  of  the  village  talk  about  these  teach- 
ers, and  that  is  the  way  the  men  marry  them ! 

Again  I  find  that  I  have  anticipated  and  reached 
the  autumn  before  I  have  finished  with  the  summer, 
in  the  very  hottest  part  of  which,  usually  August, 
comes  an  "evangelist"  to  hold  a  protracted  meeting. 
The  sound  of  words  always  meant  so  much  to  me 
when  I  was  a  child,  and  when  I  first  heard  that 
word,  evangelist,  I  pictured  a  great,  radiant  figure, 
with  spreading  white  wings  growing  out  from  a 
somber  suit  of  black  clothes,  and  holding  to  his  lips 
a  long,  graceful  trumpet.  Naturally,  this  was  some 
time  ago,  when  I  was  quite  young,  and  wanted  to 
be  good,  so  that  when  I  died  I  could  go  to  heaven, 
where  my  chief  delight  was  going  to  be  tending  a 
garden  full  of  silver  bells  and  cockle-shells  and 
pretty  maids  all  in  a  row.  Oh,  those  silver  bells! 
In  point  of  beauty  they  had  no  rivals  in  my  childish 
imagination,  except  Cinderella's  glass  slippers  and 
Aaron's  golden  calf!  A  lovely  heaven  it  was  go- 
ing to  be,  of  light  pastel  shades,  and  a  great  way  off 


ANN  9 

from  God!  You  see  I  was  brought  up  in  such  an 
orthodox  atmosphere  that  I  imagined  God  was  like 
the  principal  of  a  school  I  once  attended,  always 
looking  out  for  offenders  with  a  rod  up  his  sleeve. 
'  It  was  a  distinct  disappointment  to  me  when  I 
found  that  an  evangelist  is  like  any  ordinary 
preacher,  except  that  he  perspires  more.  Sometimes 
he  is  sensational  and  preaches  about  lace  yokes  and 
dancing;  and  on  Sunday  afternoon  holds  a  meeting 
for  men  only,  where  he  tells  them  what  a  terribly 
'bad  man  he  used  to  be!  Again  he  is  "burdened" 
with  the  souls  of  the  whole  congregation  and 
preaches  hell  and  damnation  in  a  voice  that  sounds 
like  pitchforks  clanging  against  iron  chains.  Now, 
city  preachers  seldom  do  anything  like  this.  In  the 
city  pulpits,  of  recent  years,  hell  is  like  smallpox; 
it  is  still  there,  but  in  a  much  milder  form. 

During  the  revivals  there  are  always  one  or  more 
abusive  sermons  directed  at  the  other  churches  of 
the  town,  and,  of  course,  the  Episcopalians  are  ever 
in  a  class  with  "the  Turk  and  the  comet."  Catho- 
lics are  unmentionable. 

This  usually  causes  much  "hard  feeling"  among 
the  good  wives  of  the  town,  at  an  inconvenient  time, 
too,  for  the  season  for  swapping  sweet  peach  pickle 


io  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

recipes  is  close  at  hand.  The  only  people  who  can 
maintain  a  placid  spirit  during  these  revivals  are 
those  who  stay  away,  and  I  usually  try  this  plan, 
unless  the  evangelist  happens  to  be  young  and  good- 
looking. 

Young  and  good-looking,  ay,  there's  the  rub! 
Herein  is  my  lack  of  material  for  an  interesting 
journal,  so  long  as  I  stay  here  at  home.  Notwith- 
standing these  barriers,  Cousin  Eunice,  who  was  the 
instigator  of  my  childhood's  diary,  has  again  sug- 
gested that  I  keep  a  book  here  by  me  to  "tell  off" 
to  occasionally  when  I  feel  the  need  of  a  mental 
clearing-house.  She  says  a  journal  has  two  points 
of  advantage  over  the  bosom  friend  a  girl  of  my 
age  usually  has ;  one  is,  that  you  can  shut  it  up  when 
you  want  to  go  to  sleep  at  night,  and  the  other  is 
that  you  can  burn  it  when  you  grow  ashamed  of 
the  secrets  it  contains,  neither  of  which  you  can  do 
to  your  bosom  friend,  no  matter  how  badly  you  may 
wish  to. 

The  diary  which  I  kept  for  several  years  while  I 
was  at  the  gawky  age  was  intended  to  be  secreted 
between  two  pieces  of  board  in  the  attic  and  dis- 
covered by  my  grandchildren  amid  tumultuous  ap- 
plause, years  hence.  But  I  am  far  too  grown-up 


ANN  ii 

for  these  grandchildren  now.  The  knowledge  of 
my  years  is  ever  with  me,  a  sort  of  binding  torment, 
like  an  armhole  that  is  too  tight,  so  I  shall  have  to 
leave  the  little  dears  behind,  with  the  fairies  and  the 
freckles  that  I  have  long  since  outgrown.  They, 
or  the  thought  of  them,  used  to  make  me  feel  that 
I  was  on  actual  speaking  terms  with  my  other  diary, 
but  perhaps  after  a  while,  I  may  feel  on  the  same 
terms  with  you,  even  without  their  presence. 

In  the  first  place,  as  a  reason  for  this  book's  be- 
ing, I  have  always  liked  the  notion  of  keeping  a 
written  account  of  my  thoughts  and  feelings,  espe- 
cially of  my  feelings,  for  they  are  usually  all  jum- 
bled up  in  my  mind,  like  ribbons  on  a  remnant 
counter,  but  after  I  have  set  them  down  in  black 
and  white  where  I  can  stand  off  and  look  at  them 
they  are  no  more  complicated  than  sardines  in  a 
box.  Another  reason  is  that  in  the  diaries,  corre- 
spondence and  love-letters  of  interesting  people 
(great  people,  I  mean)'  which  I  have  read,  I  have 
found  there  is  a  sort  of  interest  which  is  lacking 
in  their  stiff-standing-collar  and  high-heeled-shoes 
productions.  In  this  class  I  have  read  Amiel  and 
Sam  Pepys,  and  the  love-letters  of  Sophie  Dorothea, 
poor  dear!  How  her  portrait  must  have  lied!  No 


12  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

woman  with  that  much  fat  on  her  neck  could  really 
love!  I  adore  Amiel  and  am  fond  of  Pepys,  al- 
though I  wish  he  had  left  out  about  a  ton  of  that 
venison  pasty  which  his  "she-cozen"  was  usually 
preparing  for  his  entertainment.  It  always  gets  in 
your  line  of  vision,  somehow,  whenever  you  are 
craning  your  neck  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  that  naughty 
but  nice  Charlie  Stuart ! 

Then  there  was  a  girl  in  Pendennis  who  kept 
a  book  of  heart-outpourings  and  called  it  "Mes 
Larmes."  And  my  Lord  Byron's  dear  friend,  Lady 
Blessington,  called  hers  "My  Night  Book." 

Well,  mine  is  not  going  to  be  a  night  book,  for 
that  is  not  my  favorite  time  for  mental  surveying. 
I  am  still  a  regular  lizard  in  my  love  for  the  sun- 
shine, and,  if  the  prospect  sounds  alluring,  I'll  prom- 
ise that  much  of  this  book  shall  be  written  in  the 
clear  light  of  day.  A  good  part  of  my  other  diary 
was  written  up  in  the  old  pear  tree  by  the  orchard 
gate,  but  now  I  am  grown  up,  so,  of  course — 

"Mes  Larmes"  would  be  even  worse  for  a  title 
than  the  one  I  have  just  mentioned.  Some  tears 
will,  of  course,  be  mixed  in  to  make  the  rainbows 
of  happiness  shine  through,  but  I  fancy  that  mine 
will  be  principally  a  record  of  work  and  play.  Work 


ANN  13 

that  is  play  and  play  that  is  work,  mother  says,  as 
I  sit  on  the  shady  porch  in  the  mornings  working 
flowers  on  my  shirt-waist  front,  and  spend  the  after- 
noons playing  tennis  in  the  hot  sun.  Work  and  play, 
then,  for  the  present ;  later,  maybe,  smiles  and  sighs ; 
while  a  long,  long  way  in  the  future,  perhaps  on  the 
last  few  pages,  there  may  be — shall  I  say  it  ?  No,  I 
am  not  well  enough  acquainted  with  you  yet. 

Although  I  have  kept  back  this  one  little  thought 
from  you  in  the  above,  I  promise  that  in  the  narra- 
tion of  all  things  which  have  actually  happened  this 
journal  is  going  to  be  unexpurgated !  First,  I  love 
truth;  and  I  think  that  a  whole  truth  is  nearly  al- 
ways better  than  a  half.  For  instance,  d — n  in  print 
always  looked  worse  to  me  than  damn.  Then,  in 
the  diaries  and  love-letters  I  have  mentioned  above, 
I  have  often  found  that  at  the  very  places  where 
matters  were  getting  so  interesting  you  straighten 
up  somewhat  and  begin  to  breathe  very  softly,  the 
narrative  breaks  suddenly  into  a  row  of  beastly  little 
dots — and  you  are  left  to  imagine  what  you  will! 
Maybe  the  truth  would  not  have  been  half  so  bad 
as  your  imaginings — maybe  it  would  have  been 
much  worse.  It  all  depends  upon  the  condition  of 
your  circulation ! 


H  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

For  my  part,  I  like  a  book  to  tell  the  whole  truth 
about  what  it  starts  out  to  tell;  yet  this  does  not 
mean  that  every  detail  is  to  be  described,  even  to 
setting  forth  whether  the  heroine  wears  hose-sup- 
porters or  round  garters.  Now,  in  case  this  journal 
should  be  secreted  in  the  attic  and  found  years 
hence  by  a  mixed  audience  which  is  inclined  to  take 
offense  at  my  mention  of  garters,  I  shall  say  simply, 
"Evil  to  him  who  evil  thinketh." 

So  I  am  going  to  have  you  for  my  confidential 
friend  and  adviser.  I  say  adviser  advisedly,  for  I 
know  of  nothing  which  preaches  a  better  sermon 
sometimes  than  for  a  person  to  look  over  certain 
back  pages  of  his  diary ;  especially  her  diary. 

When  I  am  wicked  enough  to  make  your  leaves 
curl  up  in  horror,  all  you  can  do  is  to  listen  to  my 
story  and  not  look  at  me  as  if  you  thought  I  needed 
the  prayers  of  the  congregation.  People  who  pray 
don't  talk  about  it  anyway!  And,  if  by  chance,  my 
right  hand  should  do  something  handsome  that  it 
is  fairly  itching  to  tell  about  we  can  recite  it  all  to 
you,  knowing  that  you  will  never  let  it  come  to  the 
ears  of  my  left  hand. 

Good  I  may  occasionally  be;  wicked  I  shall  cer- 
tainly be,  for  are  not  we  all  born  in  iniquity  ?  But  I 


ANN  15 

hope  that  in  after  years  when  I  read  over  these  pages 
I  shall  not  discover  that  it  takes  a  sextant,  a  com- 
pass and  an  alarm  clock  to  find  out  where  my 
heart  is ! 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   NEW    NEIGHBORS 

rOU  mus'  be  mighty  clean,  or  mighty  dirty, 
one,"  Mammy  Lou  called  out  to  me  this  morn- 
ing as  she  looked  up  from  the  kitchen  door  and 
espied  me  at  the  bath-room  window  with  my  robe 
wrapped  around  me  toga- fashion. 

"Oh,  excuse  me"  she  continued  with  exaggerated 
politeness  after  a  moment  in  which  I  did  not  speak. 
"Of  course  you  ain't  to  be  spoke  to  when  you're 
breathin'  like  a  heathen !" 

I  finished  the  prescribed  number  of  breaths  laid 
down  in  the  rules  for  Yogi  breathing,  which  I  am 
trying  just  now  because  I  am  so  tired  of  breathing 
the  same  old  way,  then  looked  down  at  mammy. 

"A  girl  who  can  take  a  cold  bath  every  morning 
and  bait  a  fish-hook  can  take  care  of  herself  in  this 
life!"  I  answered.  "You  ought  to  be  proud  of  my 
courage." 

1  Tain't  no  Christian  notion  for  no  girl  to  be 
wantin'  to  take  care  of  herself,"  she  began  to  argue, 

16 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  17 

but  rather  than  get  into  a  debate  and  be  routed,  as 
she  sometimes  is,  she  suddenly  assumed  an  air  of  ex- 
citement and  cried :  "Listen !  Wasn't  that  the  thing 
hollerin'?" 

"The  thing"  here  referred  to  is  the  new  inter- 
urban  line  which  now  runs  past  our  house,  much  to 
the  chagrin  of  Mammy  Lou,  who  calls  it  the  "inter- 
ruption line,"  because  it  is  "always  drappin'  some- 
body off  here  right  in  the  midst  o'  dinner  time,  when 
there  ain't  nothin'  lef  but  backs  and  wings." 

This  very  disconcerting  thing  has  happened  so 
many  times  that  mother  found  she  would  have  to 
carry  a  full  line  of  emergency  tins  in  her  pantry,  all 
bearing  on  their  labels  the  comforting  assurance  that 
they  could  be  served  hot  in  three  minutes.  These 
were  ever  small  consolation  to  Mammy  Lou,  how- 
ever, and  she  always  serves  them  with  as  much  hu- 
miliation as  if  the  "Yankee  beans"  and  "het-over 
peas"  were  the  proverbial  dinner  of  herbs. 

This  morning,  though,  the  lid  was  shut  fast  on 
the  tinned  diet  department  and  there  was  as  much 
beautiful  fried  chicken  sizzling  drowsily  on  the  back 
of  the  stove  as  northern  people  always  give  us 
Southerners  credit  for  having.  The  best  white  and 
gold  china  was  on  the  table,  and  a  tall  vase  of  Paul 


i8  'AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

Neron  roses  on  the  mantelpiece,  hiding  father's  bot- 
tle of  rheumatism  cure. 

At  mammy's  suggestion  that  she  heard  the 
"thing"  hollering  I  had  thrown  on  my  clothes  with- 
out waiting  to  wipe  all  the  water  out  of  my  ears, 
and  had  run  down-stairs  to  see  if  mother  needed  me 
to  pin  her  collar  down  in  the  back,  for  I  knew  she 
would  be  wanting  to  look  her  best  this  morning.  We 
were  all  a  little  excited  (things  so  seldom  happen 
here)  and  I  noticed  that  father  was  using  his  most 
rheumatic  hand  and  arm  every  few  minutes  to  take 
his  watch  out  of  his  pocket ;  yet  he  forgot  to  frown. 

The  Claybornes  were  coming,  Waterloo,  Rufe 
and  Cousin  Eunice.  We  were  feeling  particularly 
anxious  about  the  outcome  of  their  visit,  for  mother 
and  I  had  conspired  together  that  a  few  political 
talks  with  Rufe  had  to  cure  father  of  his  rheuma- 
tism. So  we  were  watching  every  movement  on  his 
part  with  eager  interest. 

You  must  not  imagine  that  we  are  unsympathetic 
with  father  when  he  actually  has  an  attack.  We  rub 
him  and  put  hot  things  to  his  shoulder,  and  I  have 
actually  gone  so  far  as  to  let  him  explain  the  pri- 
mary plan  to  me  in  words  of  one  syllable  that  a  child 
could  understand,  just  to  get  his  mind  diverted. 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  19 

Like  most  high-spirited  men,  when  father  does  get 
down  into  the  depths  he  tries  to  burrow  clear  on 
through  to  China.  I  wonder  why  this  is?  Possibly 
it  is  on  the  same  principle  that  effervescent  drugs  are 
kept  in  blue  bottles.  I  do  not  blame  him,  certainly, 
for  rheumatism  is  enough  to  get  on  anybody's 
nerves.  The  poor  man  has  to  try  as  many  different 
positions  to  get  any  ease  sometimes  as  a  worn-out 
alarm  clock  that  will  run  only  on  a  certain  side.  So 
the  summer  has  been  a  hard  one  for  us  all,  father 
waxing  so  melancholy  here  lately  that  if  he  has  a 
gum-boil  he  gives  us  directions  for  his  cremation. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  outbursts  of  pessimism 
that  father  took  it  into  his  head  to  disfigure  the 
landscape  across  the  road  from  our  house  with  a  row 
of  smart  cottages,  which  were  to  rent  for  so  much 
a  month  that  they  would  prove  a  get-rich-quick 
scheme  and  so  save  us  from  the  humiliation  of  being 
cared  for  by  the  Masons  in  our  old  age,  which  was 
another  one  of  the  notions  in  the  train  of  rheu- 
matic gloom. 

Fortunately  the  first  cottage  cost  so  much  more 
than  it  was  worth  that  the  project  for  the  rest  was 
abandoned ;  and,  after  it  was  duly  insured,  mother 
and  I  were  secretly  burning  candles  to  our  patron 


20  AT    THE   AGE    OF    EVE 

saint  for  its  incineration  when  it  was  rented  to  a 
family  named  Sullivan.  This  Sullivan  family  con- 
sists of  a  father  who  drinks,  just  a  little,  enough  to 
keep  him  jolly  all  the  time ;  a  mother  who  is  of  such 
a  despondent  nature  that  you  wish  she  would  drink ; 
a  daughter  who  wears  crimson  silk  gowns  and  jew- 
eled combs  to  the  post-office  when  she  goes  for  her 
mail  every  morning,  yet  withal  has  more  beaus  than 
any  other  girl  in  the  village,  as  is  attested  by  the 
candy  boxes  piled  piano-high  in  her  parlor;  and  a 
maiden  aunt,  Miss  Delia  Badger,  who  dyes  her  hair. 
Now,  this  term,  "maiden  aunt,"  is  usually  employed 
to  denote  a  condition  of  hopelessness,  but  you  will 
understand  from  the  dyed  hair  that,  in  this  case,  the 
condition  is  far  from  being  hopeless — else  why  the 
dye? 

The  pristine  blackness  of  Miss  Delia's  crown  of 
glory  was  beginning  to  wear  off,  and  in  the  stress 
of  moving  had  not  been  replaced  as  soon  as  it  should 
have  been,  so,  on  the  day  that  I  made  her  acquaint- 
ance, her  hair  displayed  an  iridescent  sheen,  shad- 
ing from  light  tan  to  deep  purple.  This  made  me  so 
angry  with  father  for  having  built  the  cottage  that 
I  ran  past  him  without  a  word  of  sympathy  when  I 
reached  home,  although  he  was  sitting  on  the  front 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  21 

porch  reading  the  paper  and  making  horrible  faces 
every  time  he  had  to  move  his  arm. 

The  next  day,  which  was  the  second  after  their 
moving,  when  I  turned  in  at  our  gate  after  my  morn- 
ing tramp,  I  found  that  the  Sullivans  were  present- 
ing a  much  more  homelike  view  from  the  front  of 
their  house,  elaborate  curtains  showing  at  the  parlor 
windows,  and  at  the  front  door  a  white  panel  of 
lace,  a  most  lifelike  affair,  representing  Andrew 
Jackson  mounted  upon  his  fiery  steed  and  lifting  his 
high  white  hat  to  an  imaginary,  though  evidently 
enthusiastic,  throng. 

"Now,  I  reckon  you're  satisfied,"  I  exclaimed  to 
father  as  I  came  into  the  house  and  found  him 
cleaning  his  gun,  one  end  of  it  resting  on  the  piano, 
and  a  pile  of  greasy  rags  perilously  close  to  my 
limp-backed  copy  of  Gray's  Elegy. 

He  quickly  moved  the  gun  and  rags,  but  seeing 
that  this  offense  was  not  the  cause  of  my  wrath,  he 
meekly  inquired :  "What  ?" 

Mother  came  in  at  this  juncture  and  I  explained 
to  them  my  indignation  over  the  Andrew  Jackson. 

"Jumping  Jerusalem!"  father  said,  thus  admitting 
his  horrified  surprise,  but  after  a  moment  he  parried. 

"It  may  be  Napoleon,  or  Frederick  the  Great." 


22  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"What  difference  would  that  make  ?"  I  demanded. 
"A  warrior  has  no  place  on  a  door-panel.  Besides, 
it's  'Old  Hickory/  I'd  know  that  high  white  hat 
anywhere!  Wasn't  I  born  and  raised  in  the  shadow 
of  it?" 

"Dear  me!  But  maybe  you  are  mistaken," 
mother  interposed  gently.  "It  is  quite  a  distance 
across  the  road — it  may  be  a  peculiar  pattern  of 
Batten—" 

Before  she  had  finished  I  darted  up  the  steps  and 
scrambled  around  in  the  bureau  drawer  for  my 
opera-glasses. 

"Take  these  out  to  the  porch  and  look,"  I  begged, 
as  I  came  down  again  and  found  the  two  still  facing 
each  other  with  a  quizzical  smile.  She  carried  out 
my  suggestion  and  presently  came  back,  still  smiling. 

"It's  Andrew,"  she  reported,  reaching  out  for  my 
opera-bag  and  slipping  the  glasses  into  it;  "it's  An- 
drew beyond  a  doubt;  but,  dearie,  it  cant  outlast 
two  washings." 

This  assurance  comforted  me  somewhat  every 
time  I  had  to  look  at  the  military  door-panel,  but  on 
cleaning  days  when  the  parlor  curtains  at  the  cottage 
were  tucked  up  and  I  discerned  the  large,  colored 
portrait  of  Mr.  Roosevelt  which  smiled  sunnily  down 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  23 

from  the  space  above  the  mantelpiece  there  was  no 
such  consoling  reflection. 

About  this  time  it  was  that  I  grew  to  know  Neva, 
the  daughter  of  the  house.  Her  family  called  her 
"Nevar,"  most  nasally,  after  the  manner  of  "ordi- 
nary" people  in  the  South;  but  I  soon  found  quali- 
ties in  her  that  made  me  forgive  the  silk  gowns  and 
jeweled  combs,  aye,  even  the  Andrew  Jackson. 

In  the  first  place  I  discovered  that  she  entertained 
a  most  profound  admiration  for  me,  especially  for 
my  pronunciation  and  finger-nails.  Of  these  she  at 
once  set  about  a  frank  imitation  which  later  ex- 
tended to  things  more  impersonal.  Once,  after  I 
had  shown  her  my  books  and  she  had  breathed  a 
long,  ecstatic  sigh  over  the  pictures  in  the  library  I 
found  that  the  hero  of  San  Juan  was  falling  into 
disfavor  as  a  parlor  ornament.  Neva  had  been  es- 
pecially impressed  with  a  small  oval  portrait  of  my 
childhood's  hero,  Lord  Byron,  which  mother  had 
found  once  in  a  curio-shop  in  New  Orleans  and 
brought  home  to  me. 

"Who  is  he?"  she  asked,  her  eyes  fixed  admiringly 
on  the  matchless  face.  I  explained  to  her. 

"Is  he  dead  ?"  she  inquired  softly. 

"Alas,  yes!" 


24  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"But  it  certainly  is  swell  to  have  his  picture  here," 
she  volunteered.  "I  reckon  it's  because  he's  dead 
that  it  is  more  quiet  and  elegant,  somehow,  than  a 
president's  picture.  Now  Mr.  Roosevelt  looks  so 
horrid  and  lively!" 

From  this  I  gathered  that  the  ex-president  would 
sooner  or  later  be  deposed,  but  I  was  surprised  to 
find  that  it  had  happened  much  sooner  than  I  had 
expected,  for  the  next  time  I  visited  the  Sullivan 
home  I  found  Mr.  Roosevelt's  jolly  face  gone;  and 
in  its  stead  the  gentle  features  of  William  McKinley 
looked  down  on  the  candy-boxes  and  pink-flow- 
ered cuspidors.  That  he  was  dead  was  evidenced  by 
the  black  border  running  mournfully  around  the 
print;  and  Neva  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  as 
soon  as  I  came  into  the  room. 

"You  see  he  looks  quieter  than  Roosevelt  because 
he's  dead,"  she  elucidated,  "although  he  isn't  a  poet ! 
Papa  said  he'd  buy  me  a  poet  the  next  time  he  went 
up  to  the  city — and  oh,  a  green  leather  copy  of 
Gray's  'Prodigy !' — like  yours !" 

So,  in  trying  to  teach  Neva  the  difference  between 
presidents  and  poets,  I  have  been  able  to  enliven 
some  of  the  dull  days;  and  she  is  such  a  sweet  little 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  25 

thing  at  heart  that,  if  she  never  gets  the  difference 
clear,  my  time  is  not  ill-spent  anyway. 

But  ah,  this  morning  the  Claybornes  were  com- 
ing !  And  we  were  all  out  at  the  gate  in  a  twinkling 
when  we  finally  did  hear  the  shrill  whistle  of  the 
car!  The  first  sight  of  Waterloo's  sparkling  little 
face  rewarded  me  for  dressing  while  my  ears  were 
still  wet.  He  had  on  a  Buster  Brown  suit  of  white 
linen,  with  red  anchors  embroidered  in  their  usual 
places,  and  a  brave  red  badge  setting  forth  his  po- 
litical inclinations.  Father's  lame  hand  had  already 
reached  out  for  him. 

"Hello,  Uncle  Dan !"  he  said  cordially,  paying  no 
attention  to  the  feminine  portion  of  the  crowd.  "Are 
you  for  it  or  'ginst  it?" 

"I'm  'ginst  it,  too,"  father  answered,  drawing 
from  his  pocket  a  similar  badge. 

"That's  right !  Now  show  me  the  mules !" 

He  and  father  led  the  way  up  the  walk,  followed 
by  the  rest  of  us,  with  Grapefruit,  escorted  by  a  hila- 
rious Lares  and  Penates,  bringing  up  the  rear. 

Grapefruit,  be  it  known,  is  Waterloo's  nurse,  or, 
more  properly  speaking,  is  a  kind  of  jester  to  His 
Majesty.  Her  genuine  name  is  Gertrude,  but  she 


26  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

came  to  him  when  he  was  at  such  a  tender  age  that 
he  corrupted  it  to  Grapefruit,  and  Rufe  says  that  if 
he  had  named  her  Fragrant  Pomegranate  Vine  it 
would  not  be  any  too  good  for  her.  She  is  an  ethe- 
real little  darky  with  wonderful  powers  of  diver- 
sion. Cousin  Eunice  tells  about  how  she  found  her 
out  in  the  side  yard  playing  with  Waterloo  one  May 
morning  long  ago,  and  how  his  soul  so  clave  unto 
her  soul  that  he  refused  to  give  her  up. 

Automobiles,  red  wagons,  fire-engines,  boxes  of 
candy — all  were  suggested  in  vain.  "I  want  my  lit- 
tle Grapefruit,"  he  tearfully  insisted,  over  and  over 
again,  until  the  attractive  one  modestly  announced 
that  she  might  be  engaged  to  stay  and  amuse  him 
by  the  week  for  "seventy-five  or  fifty  cents,  or  I'll 
stay  for  nothing  if  you'll  let  me  play  on  the  piano." 

Cousin  Eunice  joyfully  agreed  to  the  highest  fig- 
ure asked,  with  the  use  of  the  piano  thrown  in,  yea 
and  the  telephone,  the  type-writer,  in  short,  every- 
thing in  the  house  except  her  tooth-brush.  So  Grape- 
fruit stayed,  and  at  this  period  of  their  lives  is  as 
necessary  a  part  of  the  Claybornes*  traveling  outfit 
as  their  collapsible  drinking-cup. 

After  breakfast  was  over  we  lingered  in  the  din- 
ing-room a  while,  as  is  our  custom  when  we  have 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  27 

interesting  guests ;  and  we  women  rested  our  elbows 
on  the  table  and  talked,  while  the  men  lit  their  cigars 
and  pounded  the  table-cloth  until  the  spoons  jumped 
out  of  the  saucers,  so  vehement  were  their  expres- 
sions about  "that  blackguard  of  a  governor." 

We  women  talked  about  Waterloo,  of  course. 

"He's  at  the  loveliest  age,  right  now,  I  think," 
mother  said,  as  our  three  pairs  of  eyes  wandered 
out  in  his  direction  to  the  long  back  porch,  where 
Grapefruit  and  Lares  were  making  him  a  pack-sad- 
dle, so  they  could  "tote  'im"  down  to  the  lot.  He 
was  entirely  too  good  to  walk  that  first  morning. 

"Yes,  I  rather  dislike  the  thought  of  his  growing 
into  a  great,  rough,  short-haired  boy,"  Cousin  Eu- 
nice assented,  looking  at  him  fondly.  "That  terri- 
ble age  when  they  always  smell  like  their  puppies! 
But,  that's  quite  a  while  off.  He  is  still  a  baby." 

"I  find  that  they  are  always  more  or  less  babies," 
mother  said,  looking  toward  me,  " — no  matter 
what  their  age  may  be." 

"Oh,  this  talk  about  ages  reminds  me  of  a  book  I 
brought  for  Ann  to  read,"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  ris- 
ing from  the  table  and  starting  toward  the  front  hall 
where  their  bags  had  been  hastily  dropped  that  we 
might  not  delay  Mammy  Lou's  hot  breakfast.  "Stay 


28  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

here,  all  of  you,  and  wait  until  I  get  it.  It  contains 
an  interesting  thought." 

"Then  it's  that  much  ahead  of  most  new  books," 
Rufe  remarked,  his  attention  having  been  attracted 
from  his  own  line  of  talk  by  Cousin  Eunice  starting 
to  leave  the  dining-room. 

"It  isn't  strictly  new,"  she  commented,  returning 
in  a  few  moments  with  the  book  in  her  hand.  "It 
was  written  several  years  ago.  It's  nothing  out  of 
the  ordinary  in  plot,  and  the  thought  which  im- 
pressed some  of  us  in  the  'Scribblers'  Club'  was  con- 
cerning the  age  of  Eve  when  she  was  created.  The 
heroine  of  the  story  is  named  Eve  and  is  young  and 
fair,  so  the  hero,  a  gallant  soldier,  remarks  to  her 
one  day  as  they  are  walking  by  the  river  bank  at  a 
stolen  tryst,  that  he  fancies  the  first  mother  was  at 
his  sweetheart's  identical  age  when  she  was  created. 
You  see,  it  is  quite  a  poetic  fancy." 

"More  poetic  than  true.  Soldiers  don't  talk  that 
way,"  father  said  drily.  "How  old  did  the  book 
say  this  Eve  was?" 

"The  author  was  too  wise  to  tell  in  plain  figures," 
she  answered,  "but  it  was  somewhere  under  the 
twenties — in  the  early  flush  of  youth." 

"Well,  Adam  was  the  first  man  who  ever  had  the 


29 

chance  of  a  wife  made  to  order,"  father  kept  on. 
"Surely  he  had  more  sense  than  to  take  a  seventeen- 
year-old  girl." 

"No,  you're  wrong,"  Rufe  disagreed.  "I  believe 
that  Adam  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  look  a 
gift  wife  in  the  mouth." 

"I'll  get  the  Concordance  and  see  if  there's  any 
record  of  her  age,"  mother  said,  bustling  off  toward 
her  bedroom  and  returning  in  a  moment  with  her 
well-worn  book,  but  she  was  unable  to  find  any  defi- 
nite facts  about  Eve  on  the  morning  of  that  first 
surgical  operation. 

"What  difference  does  it  make  about  the  actual 
number  of  years?"  Rufe  inquired,  with  an  air  of 
dismissing  the  subject.  "The  age  of  Eve  is  that 
picturesque  period  which  comes  to  a  girl  after  her 
elbows  are  rounded  out." 

My  bared  arms  happened  to  be  resting  again  on 
the  table  during  this  discussion,  and,  as  Rufe  spoke, 
Cousin  Eunice's  eyes  wandered  in  their  direction. 
"Then  Ann's  at  it,"  she  concluded  triumphantly,  and 
they  all  stared  at  me  curiously,  as  if  the  age  of  Eve 
were  showing  on  me  like  pock-marks ! 

"Ann  doesn't  seem  nearly  so  old  as  she  really  is," 
mother  began  with  a  kind  of  uneasy  look.  "You  see, 


30  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

she  has  never  been  to  school  very  much,  so  her 
education — " 

"Now,  please  don't  begin  about  my  education,"  I 
begged,  for  it  is  a  mooted  question  in  my  family 
whether  or  not  I  have  any,  father  and  I  maintaining 
that  I  have  all  that  is  necessary,  mother  wishing  that 
it  had  been  more  carefully  directed  along  the  con- 
ventional lines.  "If  I  should  go  to  school  until  I'm 
as  old  as  Halley's  comet  I  couldn't  learn  the  things 
I  don't  like.  And  I  know  all  the  rest  without  going ! 
Don't  people  call  me  up  for  miles  around  to  ask  who 
wrote  Prometheus  Bound  and  how  to  spell  'candi- 
dacy?'" 

"So  you're  satisfied  with  yourself?"  Rufe  teased. 

"Far  from  it,"  I  denied,  "but  I  am  certainly  satis- 
fied with  the  amount  of  schooling  in  schools  I've 
had.  Ugh,  I  hate  the  thought  of  it !" 

"But  how  can  you  ever  amount  to  anything  with- 
out an  education?"  mother  persisted. 

"Never  fear,"  I  assured  her  easily.  "I'll  amount 
to  my  destiny,  no  matter  whether  I've  ever  seen  in- 
side a  school  or  not.  When  I  was  a  child  I  always 
imagined  I  was  cut  out  to  be  Somebody;  and  even 
now  I  occasionally  have  a  notion  that  Fate  is  watch- 
ing me  through  her  lorgnette!" 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  31 

"You  and  Jean  Everett  used  to  have  such  queer 
ideas  about  yourselves — with  your  notions  of  mar- 
rying dukes  and  living  in  castles,  and  all  that  kind 
of  thing,"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  after  a  moment  of 
amused  thought. 

"Jean  still  has  her  notions,"  Rufe  broke  in.  "Our 
city  editor  is  out  of  his  depth  in  love  with  her  and  I 
met  her  on  the  street  the  other  day  and  tried  to  be- 
speak her  pity  for  the  poor  fellow.  She  assured  me 
that  the  man  she  married  would  be  so  important  the 
papers  would  all  get  out  an  extra  every  time  his  as- 
sassination was  attempted !" 

"Well,  she'd  better  decide  to  take  Guilford  then," 
I  said  warmly,  for  it  is  a  source  of  great  satisfac- 
tion to  me  that  my  old  friend,  Jean  (still  my  best 
friend),  is  half-engaged  to  Guilford  Houghton,  a 
grave  young  lawyer  who  is  already  making  people 
take  notice.  He  is  a  very  quiet,  dignified  young 
man,  so  tall  and  thin  and  straight  that  he  reminds 
me  of  a  silk  umbrella  carefully  rolled. 

For  a  long  time  Jean  seemed  not  to  care  much 
about  him,  but  he  kept  paying  his  court  as  persist- 
ently as  a  fly  in  wet  weather  until  she  was  finally 
won — half-way.  He  has  very  methodical  ways,  and 
calls  to  see  her  only  on  Sunday  and  Wednesday 


32  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

evenings,  but  she  devotes  so  much  time  and  care  to 
her  toilet  for  hours  and  hours  preceding  these  visits 
that  we  call  them  her  "days  of  purification." 

"Guilford  is  not  so  showy,  maybe,"  she  said  to  me 
one  time,  in  explanation  of  her  fondness  for  him, 
which  she  tries  hard  to  conceal,  "but  he's  so  depend- 
able. That's  worth  a  lot  to  a  girl  who  has  been  en- 
gaged to  four  or  five  Apollos,  all  of  them  about  as 
reliable  as  drop-stitch  stockings !" 

"For  my  part,  I  admire  Jean's  ambition,"  father 
spoke  up,  although  none  of  us  suspected  that  he  was 
listening  to  our  rambling  talk.  "I'd  rather  see  a  girl 
with  an  ambition  like  that  than  one  with  none  at  all 
— one  of  these  little  empty-headed  gigglers  whose 
age  of  Eve  announces  its  arrival  by  all  the  i's  in  her 
name  being  changed  into  y's." 

Waterloo  came  in  at  this  point  and  demanded 
again  that  the  mules  be  shown  him,  so  father  and 
Rufe  set  out  for  the  stables. 

"Shall  we  walk  around  and  look  at  things,  too?" 
I  asked  Cousin  Eunice  as  we  filed  out  on  to  the  back 
porch.  It  is  a  habit  with  us  two  to  steal  away  for 
a  quiet  little  talk  the  first  few  hours  we  are  together 
and  take  stock  of  each  other's  happenings  since  we 
met  last. 


THE    NEW    NEIGHBORS  33 

"No,"  she  answered,  looking  at  me  steadily.  "The 
orchard  and  vineyard  are  more  beautiful  in  the 
afternoon.  We'll  walk  all  over  the  place  then.  Be- 
sides, I  have  a  notion  that  you'll  want  to  tell  me 
things  which  will  sound  better  in  the  afternoon  sun- 
shine." 

"Not  a  thing,"  I  denied,  and  wondered  how  a  dis- 
cussion of  poetic  fancies  at  the  breakfast  table  could 
make  her  so  sentimental. 

"Then  you  are  wasting  some  mighty  valuable 
time,"  she  replied.  "Most  normal  girls  of  your  age 
are  brimful  of  plans  and  ideas."  She  would  have 
said  secrets,  as  she  intended  to,  but  Mammy  Lou 
hove  in  sight  just  then  with  a  big  pan  of  butter- 
beans  for  me  to  shell  for  dinner. 

Rufe  had  stopped  her  at  the  kitchen  door  with  the 
usual  query,  "Well,  Mammy,  you're  not  married 
again  ?" 

"Naw,  sir,"  she  had  admitted,  with  a  self-con- 
scious smile,  "although  I  did  have  a  boa'der  all  the 
spring." 

Waterloo  protested  against  even  this  slight  pause 
in  their  progress  toward  the  stables,  so  with  an 
amused  smile  Rufe  forbore  to  continue  the  conver- 
sation, but  passed  on  and  Mammy  Lou  ambled  in  our 


34  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

direction  just  in  time  to  hear  part  of  Cousin  Eu- 
nice's remark  to  me. 

"Law,  Miss  Eunice,  you  can't  git  nothin'  out  o 
her,"  she  said  disgustedly,  as  she  set  the  pan  of 
beans  down  and  began  to  fan  herself  with  her  apron. 
"She's  plen'y  old  enough,  the  Lord  knows,  to  be 
takin'  notice,  although  Mis'  Mary  don't  think  so.  I 
heerd  you-all  talkin'  'bout  certain  ages  at  the  break- 
fas'  table,  but  I  can  tell  you  she  ain't  at  it.  She  don't 
look  at  nary  one  of  'em  twicet ;  an'  when  the  shore- 
nuff  age  of  Eve  has  come  to  a  girl  she  begins  eyin' 
ever'  man  she  meets  to  see  if  he's  got  a  missin'  rib 
that'll  match  with  hern!" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   BOOKWORM    TURNS 


"  ' \IS  ill  work  trying  to  ride  Pegasus  on  a  side- 


TJ 
£ 


saddle,"  Cousin  Eunice  said  this  morning  as 
she  hurriedly  threw  aside  her  pencil  and  paper  and 
ran  to  tell  Dilsey  about  not  putting  any  starch  in 
the  legs  of  Waterloo's  rompers.  "He's  not  a  lady's 
horse  anyhow,"  she  continued  as  she  came  back  and 
sat  down  on  the  grass  again,  "especially  after  a  man, 
a  baby  and  a  gas  stove  have  come  into  the  lady's 
life." 

"Gas  stove?"  I  questioned,  looking  up  from  my 
book,  a  heavy  old  French  book,  it  was,  for  mother's 
remark  about  my  neglected  education  had  made  me 
feel  a  little  uneasy  after  all.  Cousin  Eunice  is  not 
the  kind  of  woman  to  fill  her  letters  full  of  house- 
hold matters,  hence  my  surprised  question. 

"A  good  cook,  with  me,  is  only  a  memory,"  she 
said  with  a  sadly  reminiscent  air.  "I  have  a  girl 
whose  name  is  Pearl,  but  alas  it  is  a  lie !  Even  the 

35 


36  AT   THE   AGE    OF    EVE 

day  I  learned  that  my  book  had  found  a  publisher 
I  had  to  get  up  out  of  my  trance  and  peel  potatoes 
for  luncheon." 

"Surely  not!" 

"Yes.  I  peeled  them,  but  they  were  never  cooked, 
for  when  Rufe  came  home  and  heard  the  news  he 
hustled  us  all  off  to  town  and  we  had  luncheon  in 
Beauregard's  privatest  dining-room.  We  ordered  all 
the  things  that  disagree  with  us  most — by  way  of 
reckless  indulgence." 

"How  did  you  feel  when  you  heard  that  news  ?"  I 
asked  with  interest,  for  the  book  manuscript  which 
Cousin  Eunice  had  been  working  on  since  the  days 
of  her  single  blessedness  had  grown  to  be  like  a 
member  of  the  family  with  us  all,  especially  of  late 
years,  after  a  certain  critic  had  pronounced  it  good. 
It  suddenly  grew  so  valuable  after  that  that  she  kept 
it  in  a  little  brown  leather  bag  all  the  time  and  would 
never  leave  the  house  without  telling  somebody 
where  that  bag  was  (in  case  of  fire)  and  making 
them  promise  to  play  Casabianca  to  those  precious 
sheets  until  they  should  be  rescued. 

"Just  dazed !"  she  answered  simply.  "Pretty  much 
as  I  felt  when  I  found  that  Rufe  was  going  to  be 
mine — only  a  great  deal  less  so,  you  know." 


THE    BOOKWORM    TURNS  37 

"I  wonder  if  you  are  ever  going  to  be  really 
great?"  I  pursued,  for  since  I  have  grown  so  old  I 
share  all  her  hopes  and  fears,  just  as  if  we  were  sis- 
ters. "With  a  trip  around  the  world  as  a  starter,  and 
a  quiet  little  castle  on  the  Italian  coast  as  a  next  step. 
Then  you  can  sign  checks  for  a  thousand  dollars 
and  get  your  pictures  taken  for  nothing." 

"Well,  not  at  the  rate  I'm  going  now,"  she  replied 
with  a  rueful  smile  toward  her  book  and  pencil 
lying  inert  on  the  grass;  yet  she  made  no  effort  to 
resume  her  work.  Evidently  the  starch  in  Water- 
loo's rompers  had  driven  away  romance. 

"But  everything  has  its  compensation,"  she  con- 
tinued after  a  moment.  "If  I  never  get  my  great 
trip  around  the  world  with  a  ten-days'  stop-over  in 
Japan  I  can  never  write  a  book  about  that  long- 
suffering  country,  so  I  shall  still  have  something  to 
be  thankful  for." 

"The  public  is  the  one  to  be  thankful,"  I  added. 

"That's  true,  too,"  she  agreed.  "It  may  have  cause 
to  be  thankful  if  this  second  book  of  mine  is  never 
finished,  but  nevertheless  you  don't  know  what  a 
fever  of  impatience  I'm  in  to  see  it  all  smoothly  laid 
out  between  two  pieces  of  paste-board  and  ready  for 
the  express  label  to  be  put  on." 


38  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  do  know,  though  certainly  not 
about  a  book.  I  am  sure  I  know  what  fever  of  im- 
patience means."  But  she  was  so  absorbed  in  her 
own  troubles  that  she  did  not  notice  this  indirect 
acknowledgment  of  mine. 

"I  had  imagined  that  I  could  get  my  mind  into  a 
state  of  at  least  comparative  tranquillity  down  here," 
she  kept  on.  We  were  out  in  our  favorite  lair,  a 
screened-off  grassy  spot  in  the  side  yard,  where  a 
double  row  of  althea  bushes  furnishes  a  sense  of 
security  against  intrusion,  yet  we  were  close  enough 
to  Waterloo  to  hear  him  every  time  he  bumped  his 
head  or  skinned  his  knee. 

"This  place  is  almost  unearthly  in  its  quiet 
beauty,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  looking  up 
through  the  green  vista  toward  the  house.  The  pas- 
sion flowers  were  clambering  up  on  the  garden  fence 
and  running  riot  over  the  yellowing  cornstalks.  Back 
of  the  kitchen  the  well-house  lay  asleep  in  the  sun, 
the  star-like  blossoms  of  white  clematis  which  cov- 
ered the  roof  of  the  old  building  were  still  untouched 
by  that  feathery  change  which  forecasts  their  com- 
ing blight. 

• 

"It  is  beautiful — and  it  certainly  is  quiet,"  I  coin- 
cided with  her  emphatically. 


THE    BOOKWORM    TURNS  39 

"Sometimes  at  home  when  the  telephone  bell  and 
the  door-bell  and  the  club  meetings  and  the  butcher 
boys  and  the  laundry  men  have  all  made  a  throb- 
bing pain  come  in  my  head  I  steal  away  up-stairs 
to  my  little  den  where  I  lock  the  door  and  lie  down 
to  try  to  ease  that  nervous  pain.  Then  I  close  my 
eyes  and  try  to  project  my  astral  body  down  here 
into  all  this  still,  summer  loveliness.  I  come  up  the 
gravel  walk  and  on  to  the  front  porch — oh,  those 
cedar  porches !  And  I  go  through  the  shady  hall  to 
the  back  gallery  where  I  find  myself  face  to  face 
with  a  great  cold  watermelon  that  has  just  been 
cut" 

"And  the  library  is  full  of  roses,  and  there  is  a 
tray  of  fragrant  peaches  that  Dilsey  gathered  early 
in  the  morning." 

"Ah !  I  see  that  you  feel  its  beauty  just  as  much 
as  if  it  were  not  an  every-day  affair  to  you,"  she 
said,  looking  at  me  with  another  one  of  those  search- 
ing glances  which  she  has  treated  me  to  several  times 
lately.  "No  wonder  you  have  grown  to  look  like 
the  place." 

"To  look  like  it !"  I  encouraged  her  to  go  on,  for 
a  compliment  is  more  food  for  my  soul  than  all  the 
white  hyacinths  in  a  florist's  window. 


40  AT    THE   AGE    OF    EVE 

"Surely  you  look  like  it,"  she  continued.  "You 
are  as  patrician  looking  as  the  house — and  as  vivid 
as  the  flowers  in  the  yard." 

"Dear  me!"  I  exclaimed.  "Then  I  am  good- 
looking?" 

"Ann,  don't  be  an  idiot!  If  Aunt  Mary  had 
longed  for  a  child  as  white  as  snow  and  as  red  as 
blood  and  as  black  as  the  ebony  of  her  embroidery 
frame,  she  couldn't  have  produced  anything1  more 
exotic  than  you." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  in  which  I  thought 
of  the  vivid  beauty  of  Lady  Caroline  Lamb.  Of 
course  I  am  not  anything  to  compare  with  her!  Of 
course  not !  But  how  these  vivid  beauties  care — for 
some  one — when  the  time  comes!  Yes;  when  the 
time  comes.  But,  dear  me,  it  seems  that  it  is  never 
coming ! 

"Well,  what  good  does  it  all  do  me  ?"  I  demanded 
at  length,  the  long-pent-up  storm  of  restlessness 
thundering  to  make  itself  heard.  "Granted  that  I 
look  as  well  as  you  say,  and  that  I  live  in  an  earthly 
paradise — can't  you  see  that  there  is  no — that  it  is 
lonesome?" 

"You  are  bored  ?"  she  asked  sympathetically. 
"Bored!  lam  stifling!" 


THE    BOOKWORM    TURNS  41 

"Yet  the  summer  here  is  a  joy — with  oceans  of 
morning-glories  and  miles  of  horseback  riding!" 

"It  is  a  joy,  I  admit,  and  a  thousand  times  better 
than  being  a  summer  girl  at  a  noisy  watering-place." 

"What  is  a  summer  girl  ?"  she  asked  with  a  smile, 
but  I  was  not  smiling.  I  was  pessimistic. 

"A  sleepy-headed  female  with  trunks  full  of  soiled 
clothes !  That's  what  I  always  am  when  I  get  back 
from  a  trip." 

"Of  course  the  winters  here  are  dull."  She  had 
picked  up  her  tablet  and  was  writing  her  initials  over 
and  over  again  on  the  back. 

"They  are.  Dull  gray,"  I  agreed.  "The  days  are 
a  weary  succession  of  that  uninteresting  color;  but, 
dreary  as  they  are,  you  want  them  to  last.  When  the 
daylight  is  fading  and  night  coming  on,  but  while 
it  is  still  too  early  to  light  the  lamps — then  is  the 
worst  time  of  all !  There  is  no  sound  on  earth  save 
a  few  lonely  little  calf  bleats  from  down  in  the 
lot,  until  the  woodchop  echoes  begin — and  they  are 
lonelier  still." 

"It's  awful,  I  know!" 

"Do  you  know  what  I  do  on  such  nights  as  this? 
I  get  out  my  opera-glasses  and  long  gloves  and  a  lace 
handkerchief,  and  lay  them  on  my  table  as  if  I  were 


42  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

about  to  dress  for  a  beautiful  opera.  Then  I  read 
Aux  Italiens;  think  a  while — and  go  to  bed." 

"Poor  child!" 

"I  used  never  to  feel  this  way,"  I  kept  on.  "Al- 
ways— until  lately — I  have  loved  winter.  It  has 
meant  only  great  roaring  fires  and  barrels  of  apples. 
Even  the  absorbing  books  which  used  always  to  ac- 
company the  apples  and  big  fires  are  not  absorbing 
any  more." 

"Of  course  not.  A  girl  with  as  much  go  in  her  as 
you  have  needs  to  lose  herself  entirely  in  some- 
thing." 

"And  that  something  will  never  be  bound  in  three- 
quarters  morocco,"  I  replied,  flinging  away  my  book 
impatiently. 

"No,  indeed!  The  bookworm  has  turned.  The 
'something'  will  be  bound  in  an  English  tweed  suit 
of  clothes  through  the  day's  business  hours,  and— 

"And  a  long  gray  overcoat,  and  a  soft  gray  hat." 

She  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 

"Then  you've  seen  him  ?" 

"I  have  seen — the  type." 

She  understood,  but  she  still  looked  at  me  won- 
deringly. 

"Alfred?"  she  ventured. 


THE    BOOKWORM    TURNS  43 

"No.  He  is  my  friend,  but  if  I  were  in  love  with 
Alfred  I'd  have  palpitations  every  time  I  passed  the 
red  cross  on  an  ambulance.  That's  the  way  I'm 
going  to  love." 

"I  should  think  you  could  find  an  outlet  for  all 
the  pent-up  ambition  you  complain  of,  if  you  loved 
Alfred,"  she  insisted,  although  she  imagined  that 
she  was  not  insisting.  "I  have  never  met  a  more 
ambitious  man,  nor  one  of  such  singleness  of  pur- 
pose. Naturally  success  seems  to  gravitate  toward 
him,  as  the  crow  flies." 

"And  still  it  seems  such  a  short  while  ago  that 
Doctor  Gordon  took  a  liking  to  him,  when  he  was  a 
raw  medical  student,"  I  said  thoughtfully,  my  mind 
going  back  to  the  day  I  first  saw  Alfred  Morgan, 
big,  broad  and  bronzed,  with  his  hair  too  long  and 
his  sleeves  too  short.  There  have  been  many  days 
since  then ;  days  of  a  delightful  comradeship  when 
I  was  in  the  city.  I  would  look  after  him  with  sis- 
terly authority,  bidding  him  wear  his  rubbers  on 
rainy  mornings,  or  give  me  his  gloves  to  mend  when- 
ever I  happened  to  be  spending  the  day  at  the  Gor- 
dons' and  we  sat  down  for  a  quiet  chat  after  lunch- 
eon. Ann  Lisbeth  and  Doctor  Gordon  still  live  so 
close  to  the  Claybornes  that  we  are  like  one  big 


44  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

family  when  I  am  with  them.  Alfred  soon  began  to 
tell  me  that  I  was  his  best  friend,  but  he  never  called 
me  the  "guiding  star  of  his  existence."  He  tried  to 
teach  me  the  bones  of  the  face,  instead,  and  ex- 
plained the  barbarism  of  corsets. 

When  he  was  out  in  practice  the  first  year,  but 
still  lived  with  the  Gordons,  because  Doctor  Gordon 
would  not  let  him  go,  I  used  to  drive  around  with 
him  to  see  his  patients,  sitting  out  in  the  runabout, 
which  he  had  bought  at  half-price  because  it  was  a 
last  year's  model,  and  reading  a  magazine  while  he 
went  in  to  make  his  calls.  Often  these  calls  were 
made  in  crowded  little  factory  settlements,  where 
the  whirr  of  the  cotton-mills  sounded  through  the 
long  periods  of  waiting;  and  the  houses  were  built 
so  close  on  the  street  that  I  could  hear  the  click  of 
the  lock  as  he  unfastened  his  instrument  case. 

"I  admit  that  Alfred's  career  generates  thrills  up 
and  down  the  backbones  of  his  admiring  friends,"  I 
said  after  the  pause  which  had  been  filled  in  by  my 
busy  thoughts.  She  was  still  writing  her  initials  over 
the  back  of  her  tablet.  "Who  knows  this  better  than 
I?  Haven't  I  been  a  mother  to  the  boy  ever  since 
that  time  I  read  surgical  anatomy  to  him  when  he 


THE    BOOKWORM    TURNS  45 

had  tonsillitis?  One  of  the  most  dramatic  moments 
of  my  life  was  the  night  I  stabbed — " 

I  caught  myself,  but  not  in  time,  for  Cousin  Eu- 
nice had  looked  up  from  her  book  with  a  horrified 
stare.  "What?"  she  demanded. 

"Oh,  it  was  only  that  detestable  Burke's  automo- 
bile tire,"  I  had  to  explain  then,  but  I  had  kept  the 
occurrence  a  secret  hitherto,  and  I  was  not  keen  on 
telling  it  now. 

"It  was  during  the  year  of  Alfred's  internship  and 
you  remember  that  Burke  was  always  doing  him  an 
ill  turn?  One  drippy  night  that  fall  when  I  was  in 
Doctor  Gordon's  car  in  front  of  the  hospital  and 
they  didn't  see  me,  I  overheard  Burke  and  another 
intern  plotting  to  beat  Alfred  out  of  a  surgical  case 
that  was  coming  in  on  the  train  that  night  and  be- 
longed, by  rights,  to  him.  They  had  arranged  to 
hurry  on  over  to  the  station  first,  in  Burke's  new  car 
that  his  fond  mamma  had  given  him,  but  when  they 
went  back  into  the  house  to  get  their  raincoats  I  was 
out  of  that  machine  like  a  Nemesis  and  had  stuck 
my  hat-pin  into  the  two  tires  on  Burke's  car  which 
were  most  in  the  shadow ;  so,  when  they  started  off, 
they  had  gone  only  about  a  block  and  were  down 


46  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

in  the  mud  swearing — when  Alfred  dashed  grandly 
by  on  the  ambulance." 

"You  little  tiger!" 

"Burke  ought  to  have  had  the  hat-pin  stuck  in 
him"  I  added  savagely. 

"Aren't  we  still  barbarians — at  heart?"  she  de- 
manded, throwing  her  tablet  aside  and  straightening 
up  so  suddenly  that  I  knew  her  thoughts  had  already 
strayed  away  from  my  recital.  "Now,  that's  the 
way  I  have  always  felt  about  Appleton  since  he's 
been  governor.  Lots  of  times  when  I  have  been 
helping  Rufe  write  those  violent  attacks  against  him 
I  would  almost  choke  with  rage.  I  actually  wanted 
to  kill  him." 

"You  helped  Rufe?"  I  asked  with  envy.  "He  ad- 
mitted that  you  had  sense  enough  to?" 

"Some  of  the  meanest  things  the  Times  has  ever 
printed  about  him  were  my  thoughts,"  she  said 
proudly.  "But  it  has  never  printed  a  lie!" 

"Ah,  that  must  be  something  worth  while,"  I 
commented  admiringly,  for  my  ideas  concerning 
women  and  their  possible  achievements  are  strictly 
modern.  "I  should  like  to  be  the  power  behind  the 
revolving-chair." 

I  see  already  that  the  above  paragraph  contradicts 


THE    BOOKWORM    TURNS  47 

itself,  for  being  the  power  behind  things  is  as  old  as 
Eve ;  but  then,  the  prerogative  of  contradicting  one- 
self belongs  by  rights  to  her  daughters. 

"Do  you  care  for  politics  any  more  than  you  used 
to?"  Cousin  Eunice  asked  hopefully. 

"Politics  and  mathematics  were  ever  of  equal  in- 
terest to  me,"  I  was  bound  to  acknowledge.  "But 
I  have  been  able  to  understand  a  little  about  the 
primary  plan  this  summer — father's  taught  me.  And 
I  know  that  the  'machine  gang'  is  always  the  other 
fellows!" 

"Well,  that's  a  brilliant  start,"  said  a  sarcastic 
male  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  hedge,  and 
Rufe's  amused  face  rose  up  to  our  confusion.  With- 
out waiting  for  invitation  he  came  through  and  sat 
down  on  the  grass  beside  us. 

"Well,  she'd  enjoy  some  of  our  politicians, 
wouldn't  she?"  Cousin  Eunice  asked  Rufe  as  she 
moved  over  farther  to  give  him  more  room,  for  the 
althea  branches  were  wide  and  thick,  and  entangled 
themselves  in  our  hair  persistently.  "Whether  she 
cares  for  politics  or  no,  eh  ?" 

"Oh,  she'd  lose  her  head  over  Chalmers,"  Rufe 
acquiesced  as  indifferently  as  the  male  relative  of  a 
girl  always  shows  in  discussing  "possible"  men. 


48  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"Lord  Byron  is  as  a  comic  valentine  compared  with 
him  in  looks." 

"Richard  Chalmers,"  I  repeated.  "I've  seen  his 
name  in  the  paper  often,  but  I  don't  know  exactly 
what  he  is." 

"Neither  does  any  one  else,"  Rufe  answered  mean- 
ingly. "He's  a  rich  young  lawyer — inherited  his 
money — and  so  shrewd  that  he's  not  going  to  join 
the  Appleton  forces,  no  matter  what  pretentions  they 
make  to  get  him  on  their  side."  He  spoke  as  if  he 
were  arguing  the  question. 

"Of  course  he  isn't,"  Cousin  Eunice  added  stoutly. 

"But  what  is  he?"  I  asked,  fearful  lest  they  get 
into  a  discussion  and  forget  to  satisfy  my  curiosity, 
which  was — strange  to  say — considerably  aroused. 

"Well,  if  he  would  declare  himself  definitely  upon 
the  liquor  question,"  Rufe  explained  concisely,  "he 
would  be  about  the  most  promising  piece  of  guber- 
natorial timber  that  we  have." 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  NEW  GAME 

"If  we  knew  when  walking  thoughtless 

Through  some  crowded,  noisy  way, 
That  a  pearl  of  wondrous  whiteness, 

Close  beside  our  pathway  lay ; 
We  would  pause,  where  now  we  hasten, 

We  would  often  look  around, 
Lest  our  careless  feet  should  trample 

Some  rare  jewel  in  the  ground." 

IT  was  like  my  extravagant  nature  to  quote  this 
verse  of  "speech  day"  poetry  while  engaged  in 
such  a  commonplace  pursuit,  but  then  the  age  of 
Eve  is  an  extravagant  age. 

I  was  in  a  tight  little  cell  of  a  room  back  of  trie 
pantry,  a  hot  enough  place  on  an  August  morning ; 
a  little  den  where  we  store  old  magazines,  last  sum- 
mer hats,  pictures  and  bric-a-brac  that  we  have  out- 
grown, and  piles  of  newspapers. 

It  was  the  last  named  species  of  junk  that  was  ab- 
sorbing my  earnest  attention,  to  say  naught  of  per- 

49 


50  AT   THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

spiration,  on  the  day  I  have  in  mind,  which  is  by 
no  means  a  distant  one.  My  forehead  was  wet  and 
my  hair  was  sticking  to  it  in  damp  little  slabs,  but 
I  was  unaware  of  this  until  afterward,  when  my 
family  called  my  attention  to  it,  and  inquired  where 
I  had  been  and  what  I  had  been  doing.  Then  I  was 
in  no  mood  to  tell  them. 

"It  ought  to  be  somewhere  in  the  June  lot,"  I 
mused,  as  I  stretched  my  arm  across  a  bundle  of 
worn-out  bedroom  curtains  and  dragged  a  batch 
of  dusty  papers  over  into  my  lap. 

I  have  been  very  idle  and  lonely  for  the  last  few 
days,  else  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  been  driven  to 
such  occupation  as  this.  I  knew  it  was  foolish,  even 
as  I  did  it,  but  the  Claybomes  have  been  away,  stay- 
ing with  the  elder  Claybornes  a  while,  only  return- 
ing this  morning  early,  and  Cousin  Eunice  has  been 
so  busy  since  then  repairing  the  damage  done  Water- 
loo's clothes  that  she  has  been  uninteresting  to  me. 
The  Sullivans  spent  last  week  down  in  the  country 
at  a  tiny  town  named  Bayville,  where  there  is  no 
sign  of  a  bay;  and  I  have  missed  the  workings  of 
Neva  sadly. 

It  denoted  the  recent  trend  of  my  mind  that,  as 
I  thought  of  Neva,  upon  this  occasion,  I  immedi- 


'A   NEW   GAME  51 

ately  remembered  that  her  father  is  a  strict  anti- 
Appleton  man.  Anti-Appleton !  How  much  the 
term  means  to  me  now!  A  week  ago  I  cared  no 
more  for  its  sound  than  I  cared  for  the  nouns  of  the 
fifth  declension. 

I  picked  up  the  paper  lying  on  top  and  began  to 
fan  with  it  a  while  before  wading  into  the  mazes 
of  the  stack.  In  the  few  papers  which  I  had  already 
looked  over  I  found,  not  the  object  of  my  search,  it 
is  true,  but  wood-cuts  and  cartoons  of  men  whose 
names  have  been  familiar  to  me  for  months  in  a 
vague,  unreal  sort  of  way,  making  a  sound  to  my 
ears,  but  meaning  nothing — like  the  ringing  of  the 
telephone  bell  in  the  next  room  when  you  are  fast 
asleep.  Yet  the  telephone  bell  will  finally  awaken  you 
if  you  are  not  dead — even  so  it  might,  if  it  is  a  doc- 
tor's telephone — and  with  what  a  start  do  you  come 
to  your  senses  as  you  reproach  yourself  for  not  rec- 
ognizing its  important  voice  sooner !  I  have  felt  this 
way  many  times  lately,  since  I  have  taken  up  the 
study  of  politics;  and  have  found  it  vastly  more 
interesting  than  geometry. 

The  first  mighty  political  name  which  ever  forced 
itself  upon  my  understanding  was  Cleveland,  and  it 
is  not  surprising  to  me  now  that  I  was  mixed  up 


52  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

as  to  its  significance  and  imagined  that,  instead  of 
a  surname,  it  was  a  title  of  nobility.  It  sounded 
like  such  a  swelling  note  of  praise  to  me,  for  I  was 
only  a  few  years  old,  and  the  torchlight  procession 
on  the  night  of  his  election  filled  me  with  a  strange 
delight. 

Since  then  I  have  always  had  a  good  memory  for 
oft-repeated  names,  although  I  have  frequently  held 
as  hazy  impressions  concerning  them  as  I  did  of 
Mr.  Cleveland's  honored  cognomen.  The  poli- 
ticians of  my  native  state  have  all  gone  by  names 
that  were  as  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals 
to  my  untutored  ears  until  the  last  few  days,  when 
I  have  turned  in  and  studied  them  as  most  girls 
study  new  embroidery  stitches. 

This  is,  in  part,  what  I  have  learned :  Appleton 
is  our  governor  and  is  said  to  be  everything  that 
Charles  I.  of  England  was  beheaded  for — "tyrant, 
traitor,  murderer,  and  enemy  to  his  country."  I 
know  this  is  true  because  the  paper  we  take  says  so ; 
and  if  you  are  going  to  doubt  what  your  favorite 
newspaper  says,  why,  then,  do  you  take  it?  I  be- 
lieve in  loyalty  above  everything,  and  I  think  if  the 
paper  which  supports  the  other  side  of  the  question 
should,  by  mistake,  be  thrown  into  your  yard,  you 


A    NEW    GAME  53 

ought  to  run  and  kick  the  horrid  sheet  over  the 
fence  into  the  gutter.  That  is,  if  you  are  a  man. 
If  you  are  a  lady  I  advise  you  to  use  the  tongs  for 
the  purpose,  especially  if  there  is  any  one  passing 
by  at  the  time. 

Personally,  I  do  not  know  Mr.  Appleton,  but  I 
heard  one  fat,  motherly  woman,  whose  son  held  a 
job  under  him,  say  that  he  was  such  a  kind-hearted 
governor  because  he  set  free  so  many  poor  prison- 
ers! This  remark  impressed  me,  and  I  was  begin- 
ning to  think  well  of  him,  when  here  came  that 
paper  again  (Rufe's  paper)  saying  that  the  governor 
was  turning  them  loose  at  so  much  per,  a  murderer 
being  a  little  higher  in  price  than  a  "pistol-toter," 
who,  in  turn,  is  more  expensive  than  a  boot-legger, 
the  last  really  being  a  kind  of  bargain-day  leader,  in- 
asmuch as  he  is  such  a  help  to  the  administration ! 

Well,  I  dare  say  no  governor  is  a  hero  to  all  trie 
papers  in  his  state ! 

This  is  quite  enough  penmanship  wasted  on  Mr. 
Appleton  anyway ;  for  he  is  as  dead  as  Philadelphia 
on  Sunday,  and  the  public,  with  its  handkerchief 
held  to  its  nose,  is  only  waiting  until  next  election, 
when  quicklime  will  be  poured  over  the  remains  by 
the  young  and  gallant  Richard  Chalmers. 


54  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

Of  course,  you  understand  the  cause  of  the  politi- 
cal unrest?  It  is  the  whisky  question,  and  every- 
thing in  our  state  has  been  turned  upside  down  by 
it;  that  is,  everything  except  the  whisky.  It  is 
turned  upside  down  only  when  there  is  a  glass  under 
the  bottle.  Mr.  Appleton  favors  this  phase  of  the 
whisky  agitation. 

Next  in  importance  after  the  governor  is  a  man 
named  Blake,  Jim  Blake,  whom  nobody  ever  calls 
James,  and  who  is  so  much  like  a  big  fat  worm  that 
I  never  pass  him  in  the  streets  without  wanting  to 
mash  him.  He  is  like  one  of  those  soft,  white 
worms,  you  know,  which  I  am  sure  I  have  eaten 
dozens  of  on  nights  when  I  used  to  take  a  handful 
of  chestnuts  to  bed  with  me. 

In  the  mountainous  regions  during  his  campaigns, 
they  say,  to  make  himself  solid  with  the  boys,  Jim 
Blake  uses  bad  English  and  good  whisky;  in  the 
cities  he  uses  good  English  and  better  whisky.  All 
in  all,  he  is  the  most  popular  man  in  the  state — a 
fact  which  makes  you  wish  you  had  anticipated 
Carlyle's  remark  about  the  population  of  his  coun- 
try being  mainly  fools. 

Major  Blake  was  a  power  in  politics  a  few  years 
back,  then  he  went  into  obscuritv  for  a  while,  on 


A    NEW    GAME  55 

account  of  an  ailing  daughter,  it  was  said,  who  had 
to  live  in  the  West  if  she  would  live  at  all.  The 
story  goes  the  rounds  that  at  one  time  he  gave  up 
a  senate rship  for  the  sake  of  staying  with  this 
daughter;  and,  if  this  is  true,  I  beg  his  pardon  for 
calling  him  a  worm ! 

Her  name  is  Berenice  Blake,  which  sounds  so 
beautiful  to  me  that  I  feel  sure  her  mother  must 
have  been  the  one  who  named  her.  I  suppose  she 
improved  somewhat  in  health  from  her  outdoor  life 
in  the  West,  for  her  father  came  back  after  a  while, 
and  at  this  present  time  she  makes  frequent  vibra- 
tions between  her  home  and  Denver,  every  one  of 
which  causes  prolonged  paroxysms  in  the  society 
columns. 

In  his  political  affiliations  Jim  Blake  is  like — like 
— my  kingdom  for  a  simile !  I  might  with  truth  say 
that  he  is  like  a  chameleon,  but  I  have  already 
likened  him  to  a  worm,  and  I  do  not  care  about  get- 
ting reptiles  on  the  brain,  especially  this  late  at 
night.  Also  I  might  say  that  he  is  like  a  lake  of 
quicksilver,  except  that  such  a  body  would  resemble 
a  stagnant,  green-scummed  pool  compared  with  the 
surface  spring  of  his  opinions — opinions  which  vary 
with  the  tinkle  of  silvery  sounds. 


56 

Yet  the  fact  is  there,  and  as  immovable  as  a  win- 
dow-sash in  wet  weather,  that  he  is  the  most 
popular  man  in  the  state.  And,  while  what  I  have 
repeated  about  him  is  truth,  or  as  near  truth  as  any- 
thing is  supposed  to  be  in  politics,  it  is  disloyal  gos- 
sip coming  from  me  now,  for  Jim  Blake  is  at  home 
at  present,  he  is  unpledged,  and  we  are  hoping  high 
hopes  that  he  will  come  out  on  our  side.  The  spec- 
tacle is  pretty  much  like  a  body  of  priests  which 
might  be  standing  by  watching  for  the  devil  to  shed 
horn,  hoofs  and  tail  and  put  on  a  clean  collar,  but- 
toned behind. 

With  their  zest  for  canonizing  their  leaders  I 
wonder  what  the  temperance  workers  will  do  with 
a  man  as  handsome  as  Richard  Chalmers  is  said  to 
be?  How  the  "popular  young  ladies"  of  the  towns 
will  fall  over  one  another  in  trying  to  present  him 
with  a  great  sheaf  of  roses  at  the  close  of  his 
speech!  I  hate  that  bouquet-presenting  worse  than 
anything  else  done  by  the  women  who  mix  up  with 
candidates!  Men  hate  it,  too,  and  when  I  sounded 
Rufe  on  the  subject  he  just  frowned  and  said :  "Oh, 
it's  awful,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  sug- 
gested that  he  have  the  candidate  say  "Please  omit 
flowers,"  or  "I  will  not  look  upon  the  roses  while 


A   NEW   GAME  -57 

they  are  red,"  or  words  to  that  effect,  at  the  close 
of  his  speech. 

But  Rufe  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"There  are  three  things  in  this  life  that  a  woman 
is  a  fool  about,"  he  explained  to  me,  "the  surgeon 
who  removes  her  appendix,  the  minister  who  saves 
her  soul,  and  the  politician  who  lets  her  'take  on' 
over  him  in  public !" 

"But  the  candidate  hates  the  flowers  and  the 
praying  at  the  polls  and  the  general  patting  on  the 
back  like  'he's-mamma's-good-little-boy'  that  they 
inflict  upon  him,  doesn't  he  ?" 

"I  should  think  so,"  Rufe  admitted. 

I  was  studying  over  this  phase  of  the  next  year's 
campaign  when  I  attacked  the  pile  of  papers  in  my 
lap  and  was  wondering  if  Richard  Chalmers  would 
hate  the  fuss  they  would  inevitably  make  over  him. 

June  14,  15,  1 6,  I  glanced  through  without  find- 
ing anything  of  interest,  and  it  was  tiresome  work. 
Oh,  why  did  I  not  realize  at  the  time  these  papers 
were  fresh  and  new  that  they  held  a  "pearl  of  won- 
drous whiteness?"  It  would  have  saved  all  this 
trouble.  But  likely  Mammy  Lou  had  used  the  very 
one  to  kindle  the  fire  with.  That  would  be  worse 
than  tramping  the  rare  jewel  in  the  ground !  Ah ! 


58  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

iWas  it  prophetic  that  just  as  I  was  thinking  over 
the  words  "rare  jewel"  the  object  of  my  search  met 
my  eyes?  Of  course,  you  are  not  stupid,  my  jour- 
nal, and  you  have  long  ago  seen  that  I  was  looking 
diligently  for  all  the  news,  but  mostly  the  picture  of 
Richard  Chalmers,  the  good-looking  young  David 
who  might  slay  the  monster  Goliath,  if  he  would 
take  his  smooth  pebble  from  a  brook  and  not  from 
a  brewery ! 

Well,  it  was  the  picture  I  found,  and  his  name 
was  in  big  letters  beneath.  I  looked  at  the  face 
first,  then  quickly  at  the  name,  but  I  put  the  two  to- 
gether with  difficulty. 

"So  Richard  Chalmers  is  you!"  I  said  aloud  in 
my  surprise.  Then  I  stared  at  the  picture  as  stead- 
fastly as  Ahmed  Al  Kamel  must  have  looked  at  the 
portrait  of  the  princess,  the  first  woman's  face  he 
had  ever  seen.  A  feeling  of  superstition  came 
stealing  over  me  and  daring  me  to  say  that  this  was 
only  a  happen-so. 

"So  it's  you,"  I  repeated  without  moving  my  eyes 
from  the  picture,  "and  that  must  be  why  I  felt  such 
a  curious  interest  in  this  political  business." 

The  stuffy  heat  of  the  tight  little  room,  the  piles 
of  dusty  old  papers,  the  politics  and  rumors  of  poli- 


A    NEW    GAME  59 

tics  were  all  forgotten  in  a  twinkling  as  my  memory 
bounded  back  and  even  took  in  the  details  of  the 
landscape  that  dull  day  last  November  when  I  saw 
him  first.  Alfred  Morgan  had  asked  me  to  drive 
with  him  out  one  of  the  pikes  where  he  had  a  call 
to  make.  I  was  at  Cousin  Eunice's  and  he  had 
called  me  by  telephone  to  ask  me  to  go;  Cousin 
Eunice  and  Ann  Lisbeth  were  wrestling  over  an 
intricate  shirt-waist  pattern,  but  they  both  stopped 
long  enough  to  insist  that  it  was  too  cold  for  me  to 
go  so  far  out  just  for  the  fun  of  going.  But  I  in- 
sisted equally  as  firmly  upon  going,  so  Ann  Lisbeth 
made  me  wear  her  motor  bonnet  and  long  fur  coat, 
which  were  very  becoming. 

Our  route  lay  out  one  of  the  pikes  which  I  like 
most,  a  beautiful  driveway,  with  a  lovely  little  Jew- 
ish cemetery  about  three  miles  out.  I  found  that 
it  was  cold,  and  when  we  reached  the  cemetery  I 
asked  Alfred  to  put  me  out  so  that  I  could  walk 
around  a  bit  and  try  to  get  warm — while  he  made 
his  call  just  a  short  distance  farther  up  the  road. 
He  could  honk-honk  for  me  if  I  had  wandered  out 
of  sight  by  the  time  he  came  back.  We  frequently 
did  that  way. 

Then  it  was  that  I  first  saw  Richard  Chalmers, 


60  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

coming  out  of  the  little  red  lodge  house  at  the  gates 
of  the  cemetery.  He  was  dressed  in  gray,  with  a  long 
gray  overcoat  and  a  soft  gray  hat ;  and  his  fairness 
made  no  break  in  the  dull  monochrome  of  the  sur- 
roundings. The  brilliant-hued  lodge,  with  the  Ori- 
ental dome,  made  the  only  warm  spot  of  color  in  my 
line  of  vision,  but  he  was  looking  at  me,  too,  and  I 
am  sure  he  saw  other  spots  of  color,  for  my  face 
flushed  somewhat  as  I  recognized  him  as  being  the 
first  man  I  had  ever  seen  in  my  life  whom  I  cared 
about  looking  at. 

He  must  be  tall,  for  the  coat  he  wore  that  day 
was  quite  long,  but  I  do  not  remember  taking  in  any 
details  except  his  face.  This  was  natural,  for  it 
appeared  to  me  then  as  being  a  very  good  face  to 
look  at,  even  aside  from  the  peculiar  charm  which 
afterward  made  me  remember  it  so.  Cameo-like  in 
its  distinctness,  with  steel-gray  eyes,  it  reminded 
me  of  the  face  I  used  to  tell  Jean  about  years  ago 
when  we  each  had  an  Ideal.  "Cold-blooded  and 
lean  as  Dante,"  my  description  had  been  in  those 
bygone  days,  and  Richard  Chalmers'  face  strangely 
fitted  it,  though  by  no  means  so  cold  nor  so  lean  as 
I  had  formerly  thought  necessary  for  perfect  charm. 
It  was  only  lean  enough  to  be  intellectual-looking, 


A   NEW   GAME  61 

and,  if  the  keen  gray  eyes  were  cold,  they  were  also 
strong.  His  hair  was  short  and  of  a  very  light- 
brown  color;  I  remembered  this  distinctly,  for  he 
had  taken  off  his  hat  as  he  bade  good-by  to  who- 
ever was  inside  the  lodge,  and  he  had  stood  a  mo- 
ment bareheaded  as  he  saw  me,  and  looked  at  me 
with  a  degree  of  well-bred  surprise.  There  was 
nothing  unusual  in  this,  for,  in  driving  out  the 
country  roads  with  Alfred  and  Doctor  Gordon,  I 
have  often  observed  that  when  two  well-dressed 
people  pass  each  other  they  usually  look.  Each  one 
is  likely  wondering  what  the  other  is  doing  so  far 
from  the  madding  crowd. 

I  was  wondering  what  he  was  doing,  Anglo- 
Saxon  that  he  so  evidently  was,  coming  from  a 
Hebrew  cemetery;  then  he  untied  the  hitch-rein  of 
a  horse  that  was  restlessly  twitching  its  head  at  a 
post  near  by,  jumped  into  the  light  buggy  and  drove 
off.  Alfred  and  I  passed  him  a  little  later  on,  for 
he  had  been  driving  slowly,  evidently  to  the  distaste 
of  the  horse.  The  creature  was  just  the  kind  of 
animal  you  would  expect  a  man  of  his  appearance 
to  drive — slim  and  satiny  and  fast.  Alfred  slowed 
up  as  we  were  passing,  for  the  horse  had  drawn 
quickly  to  one  side  of  the  road  and  was  trembling 


62  AT    THE    AGE   OF   EVE 

with  fright.  The  man  in  the  buggy  held  a  tight  rein 
and  spoke  a  soothing  word  to  her,  then  turned  and 
regarded  us  again.  My  heart  bounded  as  our  eyes 
met,  and  I  wondered  why  he  had  driven  back  to 
town  so  slowly. 

The  marked  look  of  intellect  which  his  face  bore 
gave  it  an  appearance  of  asceticism,  which  his  hand- 
some clothes  and  general  make-up  belied.  He  looked 
almost  as  unworldly  as  a  monk — a  monk  fashion- 
ably dressed  and  driving  a  race-horse ! 

We  passed  each  other  again  the  very  next  week, 
in  the  lobby  of  the  city  hall  this  time,  where  I  had 
gone  with  Ann  Lisbeth  to  pay  the  water-tax.  He 
was  talking  with  two  men,  and,  as  he  recognized  me, 
he  drew  both  of  these  men  slightly  to  one  side  that 
Ann  Lisbeth  and  I  might  make  our  way  to  the  ele- 
vator without  being  crowded.  This  time  I  had 
passed  so  close  to  him  that  I  could  see  the  tiny  lines 
around  his  eyes,  left  there  by  the  warring  elements 
of  his  character,  I  imagined  afterward,  when  I  was 
trying  to  recall  every  feature  with  its  own  expres- 
sion and  thereby  piece  out,  to  my  own  satisfaction, 
a  nature  for  my  impressive  Unknown. 

"He  may  do  bad  things  sometimes,"  I  finally  con- 
cluded triumphantly,  "but  he  never  enjoys  doing 


A   NEW   GAME  63 

them,  because  he  has  a  conscience  that  will  not  let 
him." 

Once  again  I  saw  him,  some  time  afterward,  at 
the  entrance  of  a  theater  one  crowded  night  when 
the  most  popular  actress  on  the  American  stage  was 
playing.  An  emotional  little  actress  she  is,  whose 
feelings  seem  to  be  stationed  largely  in  her  finger- 
tips, for  she  uses  them  as  if  she  were  talking  to  deaf 
mutes  with  them.  I  criticized  the  play,  pronounced 
the  leading  man  a  "plumber,"  made  remarks  about 
the  extravagant  finger-play  and  otherwise  spoiled 
my  pleasure  to  such  an  extent  that  I  realized  for  the 
first  time  what  a  hold  upon  my  imagination  the  face 
of  this  Unknown  had  taken.  He  had  passed  quite 
close,  but  he  had  not  seen  me ! 

After  this  I  had  thought  about  him  very  often, 
and,  while  he  was  not  exactly  only  a  "type"  to  me, 
as  I  had  been  careful  to  explain  to  Cousin  Eunice, 
still,  as  the  weeks  slipped  by  and  I  had  not  seen  him 
again,  his  face  became  a  kind  of  pleasant  picture  that 
I  might  draw  out  sometimes  and  look  at.  A  minia- 
ture, it  must  have  been,  for  I  carried  it  with  me 
everywhere  I  went;  and  it  always  seemed  to  bring 
with  it  a  sudden  radiance,  like  a  burst  of  sunshine 
at  the  close  of  a  dreary  day. 


64  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

A  burst  of  sunshine  at  the  close  of  a  dreary  day ! 
The  words  were  lingering  pleasantly  in  my  memory 
when  I  was  called  back  to  earth  by  the  united  voices 
of  my  family. 

"Ann !"  mother  called.    "Ann!" 

"I've  looked  all  over  the  place  for  her,"  I  Heard 
Cousin  Eunice  say,  and  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet 
toward  the  dining-room  gave  me  a  suggestion  that 
it  was  time  to  eat  again. 

I  ducked  through  the  pantry  door  and  made  my 
way  up-stairs  without  being  seen  by  any  one.  I 
bathed  my  face  in  cold  water,  which  helped  a  little, 
then  I  came  on  back  down-stairs  and  faced  them. 
They  all  loo'ked  up  at  me.  It  was  awful ! 

"Where  you  been  at?"  Mammy  Lou  inquired  in 
a  low  but  penetrating  voice  as  I  passed  her  at  the 
dining-room  door ;  and  the  question  was  repeated  in 
other  degrees  of  sound  and  grammatical  precision. 
They  were  all  looking  at  my  damp  forehead. 

"I  tried  to  find  you  an  hour  ago,"  Cousin  Eunice 
said,  "I  wanted  to  tell  you  the  news." 

"And  I  wanted  you  to  polish  the  silver  on  the 
sideboard,"  mother  said  in  an  injured  voice. 

"Ann,  we  looked  evvy where  fer  you,"  Waterloo 
chimed  in,  with  his  mouth  so  full  that  Cousin  Eu- 


A    NEW    GAME  65 

nice's  attention  was  attracted  to  it  and  she  made 
him  unload  the  portions  of  nourishment  that  were 
visible  externally.  "Me  and  Grapefruit  found  a 
little  tarrypin.  Aunt  Mary  said  you  wasn't  scared 
of 'em!" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  it  was  nothing  more  important 
than  a  'tarrypin'  that  needed  my  ministrations,"  I 
began,  thankful  for  a  topic  so  entirely  earthly,  but 
there  was  a  hue  and  cry. 

"Important!"  Cousin  Eunice  exclaimed.  "There 
are  three  mighty  politicians  coming  here  to  dinner 
to-night !" 

"And  the  silver  needs  polishing,"  mother  supple- 
mented. 

"Rufe  was  talking  with  them  over  the  telephone 
this  morning,"  father  explained.  "They  are  in  Bay- 
ville  at  a  temperance  rally  and  will  have  to  come 
here  to-night  to  catch  a  car  back  to  the  city.  Mother 
and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  shame  to  let  them  go 
to  the  hotel  for  dinner — they're  such  friends  of 
Rufe's." 

"Now,  you  needn't  lay  it  on  Rufe,"  mother  said, 
smiling  at  him.  "You  know  that  if  an  Englishman 
dearly  loves  a  lord,  an  American  dearly  loves  a  lion. 
It's  you  who  want  to  hear  them  roar." 


66  AT   THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

"Richard  Chalmers  is  the  only  lion,  so  don't  look 
so  startled,  Ann,"  Rufe  said,  as  he  began  passing 
me  things  to  eat ;  but  I  was  not  hungry. 

"The  other  two  likely  eat  with  their  knives," 
Cousin  Eunice  added  soothingly,  as  she  still  used 
her  endeavors  toward  having  Waterloo  feed  him- 
self like  an  anthropoid  being. 

"Oh,  Ann  doesn't  worry  over  company,"  mother 
said,  as  she  glanced  at  me  again.  "She's  been 
asleep.  That's  what  makes  her  look — startled." 


CHAPTER   V 

PRINCE  CHARMING 

I  HAD  not  been  asleep,  but  I  had  been  in  a  dream ; 
a  dream  from  which  I  had  awakened  to  a  state 
of  greater  unreality. 

After  the  meal  was  over  and  the  family  had  all 
left  the  dining-room  I  was  still  in  a  dream  as  I  rolled 
my  sleeves  up  high  and  began  giving  hasty  dabs  with 
the  metal  polish  to  the  ancient  silver  on  the  side- 
board. How  delightful  it  is  to  have  heirloom  silver! 
I  failed  even  to  grow  cross  over  the  long,  hot  search 
for  flannel  cloths  and  the  gritty  feeling  which  this 
distasteful  task  always  leaves  around  my  finger- 
tips. 

Still  in  a  dream,  I  stood  at  the  back  kitchen  door 
and  watched  Dilsey  decapitate  the  plumpest  fowls 
the  poultry  yard  boasted.  I  saw  Lares  and  Penates 
flying  up  and  down  the  cellar  steps,  and  to  the  gar- 
den, orchard  and  vineyard — all  at  the  same  time. 
Later  on  in  the  afternoon  I  was  still  dazed  when 

67 


68  rAT   THE   AGE  OF.   EVE 

I  saw  the  ominous  black  signs  of  a  thunder-storm 
coming  up  darkly  from  the  southwest ;  and  I  heard 
father  out  in  the  hall  using  strong  language  at  the 
telephone  when  he  learned  that  the  liveryman  had 
sent  Bob  Hall,  the  town  idiot,  to  Bayville  to  bring 
the  lions  back. 

Now  Bob  Hall  is  a  kind-hearted,  narrow-eyed 
lad,  whose  mind  has  never  been  right  because  his 
mother  drove  twenty  miles  to  a  circus  just  before 
he  was  born,  so  the  villagers  explained ;  but,  be  that 
as  it  may,  Bob  has  never  been  able  to  learn  much 
beyond  when  to  say  "Whoa"  and  "Git  up,"  but  the 
joy  of  his  life  lies  in  saying  these,  so  that  the  livery- 
men of  the  town  are  glad  to  have  him  hang  around 
the  stables  and  help  with  the  horses  at  feeding  and 
watering-time.  Because  the  regular  driver  was  a 
little  drunker  than  usual  to-day  Bob  had  been  sent 
to  Bayville  on  that  delicate  commission ! 

"He's  just  as  likely  as  not  to  dump  'em  out  in  a 
mud-hole,"  father  said  wrathfully,  as  he  hung  up 
the  receiver  when  mother  implored  him  to  leave  off 
swearing  over  the  telephone  during  an  electrical 
storm.  "He'll  make  some  kind  of  mess  of  it — you 
see  if  he  doesn't." 

I  shuddered  as  I  pictured  that  elegant  gray  over- 


PRINCE   CHARMING  69 

coat  all  disfigured  with  mud ;  then  I  shuddered  again 
at  being  such  an  idiot  as  to  imagine  he  would  have 
on  an  overcoat  in  August.  And  I  wondered  how  he 
would  look  without  it,  and  decided  that  he  would 
look  grand,  of  course! 

About  five  o'clock  the  storm  burst  in  good  ear- 
nest, the  rain  coming  down  in  heavy  sheets  at  first 
and  later  settling  into  a  lively  drizzle  that  promised 
to  be  good  for  all  night. 

With  the  rain  came  a  noticeable  effort  on  the  part 
of  father's  rheumatism  to  attract  attention  to  itself ; 
and  Mammy  Lou  began  clapping  her  hand  over  her 
right  side  in  an  alarming  manner. 

Ever  since  an  attack  of  gall-stones  which  she  suf- 
fered over  a  year  ago,  and  through  which  she  was 
safely  steered  by  Alfred  Morgan — which,  of  course, 
placed  him  upon  an  Alfred-the-Great  pinnacle  in  the 
affections  of  the  whole  family — we  have  all  turned 
in  and  helped  Mammy  Lou  with  her  work.  Espe- 
cially when  company  is  coming  we  agitate  our  minds 
over  the  actual  meat  and  bread  part  of  the  enter- 
tainment, which  I  abominate,  for  personally  I  am 
domesticated  only  so  far  as  frothy  desserts  and 
embroidered  napkins  go;  and  I  am  now  able  to 
understand  the  decline  of  hospitality  in  the  South. 


70  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

Why,  since  mammy's  spell  I  have  actually  learned 
how  to  "do  up"  my  best  blouses,  which  is  a  joy  so 
long  as  I  am  working  on  the  front,  where  the  em- 
broidery stands  out  in  satisfying  bas-relief,  but  I 
am  ready  to  weep  and  long  for  father's  vocabulary 
by  the  time  I  reach  the  gathers  of  the  sleeves.  I 
should  certainly  let  these  go  unironed  if  mammy 
did  not  always  come  to  the  rescue  with  a  few  deft 
strokes  of  the  Gothic-shaped  end  of  the  iron. 

I  must  say,  though,  that  she  accepts  our  help  with 
an  exalted  indifference,  for,  since  that  awful  pain 
in  her  side,  things  temporal  have  been  of  small  mo- 
ment with  her.  She  has  turned  to  the  comforts,  or 
discomforts,  of  a  deeply  Calvinistic  religion,  and  is 
so  keen-scented  after  sin  that  when  I  darn  stock- 
ings on  Sunday  morning  I  have  to  lock  my  door 
and  pull  down  the  window-shades. 

The  only  symptom  of  remaining  worldliness  which 
I  have  noted  since  her  belated  conversion,  besides 
her  overwhelming  desire  to  get  me  married  off  to 
Alfred  (my  only  rival  in  her  affections)  was  ex- 
hibited early  this  last  spring,  when  her  above-men- 
tioned "boarder"  was  a  new-comer  in  our  neighbor- 
hood and  father  had  engaged  his  services  to  "break 
up"  the  garden. 


PRINCE   CHARMING  71 

Sara,  the  homesick  stranger,  made  strong  appeal 
to  mammy's  hospitality,  quite  aside,  as  we  thought, 
from  the  natural  susceptibility  of  her  affections. 
The  man  was  big  and  yellow,  mammy's  favorite 
color  in  husbands,  and  I  scented  danger  one  night 
soon  after  he  came  when  I  happened  to  see  her  place 
before  him  on  the  table  in  the  kitchen  a  mighty  dish 
of  "greens"  flanked  on  all  sides  with  poached  eggs. 

He  was  busily  plying  her  with  questions,  between 
mouthfuls,  and  when  he  asked  her  point-blank  "what 
aged  'oman  she  was"  she  threw  her  head  so  co- 
quettishly  to  one  side  that  she  splashed  half  a  plate- 
ful of  "pot  liquor"  on  the  floor,  as  she  responded 
airily:  "Oh,  I  don't  rickollect  exactly!  I'm  forty- 
five,  or  fifty-five,  or  sixty-five — somewhere  in  the 
fives!" 

We  held  our  breath  for  the  next  few  weeks,  ex- 
pecting at  any  moment  to  hear  that  mammy  had 
decided  to  out-Henry  Henry  Eighth,  but  her  re- 
ligion was  too  fresh  and  too  enjoyable  for  her  to 
resign  it  and  marry  the  seventh  time,  which  she  real- 
ized would  be  a  bad  example  for  her  progeny.  Still, 
there  was  Sam,  in  dangerous  propinquity,  three 
times  a  day;  and  he  was  broad-shouldered  and  en- 
chantingly  yellow !  She  withstood,  as  long  as  it  was 


72  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

in  her  poor,  affectionate  heart  to  withstand;  then 
she  compromised  and  took  him  as  a  boarder !  After 
searching  about  for  a  means  of  easing  her  conscience 
for  this  concession  she  lit  upon  Lares  and  Penates 
as  brands  to  be  snatched  from  the  burning ;  and  she 
taught  them  such  doleful  facts  about  the  uncertainty 
of  their  salvation  that  the  last  time  Alfred  was 
down  here  we  persuaded  him  to  threaten  her  with 
nervous  prostration  for  Lares  if  she  persisted  in 
her  gloomy  preachments. 

"A  boy  or  girl's  responsible  for  they  sins  as  soon 
as  the  bumps  breaks  out  on  they  faces,"  she  was  tell- 
ing them  this  afternoon,  when  the  storm  was  at  its 
worst,  and  the  two  sat  huddled  with  Grapefruit 
behind  the  stove,  like  poor  little  frightened  chickens 
in  a  fence  corner. 

Mother,  who  had  not  seen  the  meaning  gestures 
that  mammy  had  been  making  toward  her  volcanic 
right  side,  was  inclined  to  make  light  of  the  sins  of 
the  twins,  and  suggested  that  they  come  out  from 
behind  the  stove,  so  that  the  minute  the  rain  held  up 
a  little  they  could  run  on  down  to  the  ice- factory  and 
tell  the  man  to  hurry  with  the  ice.  We  were  going 
to  have  our  favorite  caramel  cream  that  night. 

But  with  mother's  advent  into  the  kitchen  the 


PRINCE   CHARMING  73 

pains  in  mammy's  side  grew  much  worse,  and  she 
began  suggestions  that  she  didn't  know  but  what 
the  Lord  was  going  to  strike  her  with  another  spell, 
"for  the  old  dominecker  rooster  had  been  crowin' 
sad  all  day!" 

The  rain  kept  on,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  the 
ice-man  telephoned  that  some  of  the  machinery  at 
the  factory  was  broken,  so  there  would  be  no  ice! 
Then  father's  rheumatism  suddenly  grew  so  bad 
that  we  had  to  stop  our  preparations  for  the  feast, 
and  spent  half  an  hour  searching  for  the  stopper  to 
the  hot- water  bag.  He  must  have  that  bag  put  to 
his  shoulder,  he  declared,  but  after  we  gathered  all 
the  essentials  together  and  put  it  there  he  could  not 
stand  it  on  account  of  the  heat ! 

Upon  going  back  to  the  kitchen  to  temper  the 
water  down  a  little  I  was  astounded  at  mammy's 
declaration  that,  if  Dilsey  would  go  down  to  the 
cabin  and  bring  up  her  easy  chair,  while  I  held  an 
umbrella  over  it,  she  would  try  to  stay  up  long 
enough  to  direct  us  about  finishing  that  dinner! 
Did  ever  a  girl  have  such  dreams  and  such  night- 
mares mixed  up  together? 

Night  descended  rapidly,  as  night  has  ever  had 
a  way  of  doing  when  you  are  in  a  fearful  hurry,  and 


74  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

mother  was  distractedly  searching  through  her  re- 
cipe book  for  a  dessert  that  could  be  quickly  made, 
yet  when  finished  would  be  grand  enough  to  set  be- 
fore gubernatorial  timber! 

Her  maternal  love  had  caused  her  steadily  to 
refuse  my  help  with  the  dessert,  and  she  made  me 
run  on  up-stairs  for  a  final  bath  and  a  few  min- 
utes of  manicuring  before  time  to  dress.  "Be  sure 
to  dress  carefully/'  she  had  bidden  me,  as  she  al- 
ways does,  for  sometimes  I  am  inclined  to  be  a  little 
absent-minded  in  the  matter  of  hooks  and  eyes;  but 
her  warning  was  superfluous  to-night. 

"Make  yourself  beautiful — an'  skase,"  is  Mammy 
Lou's  favorite  slogan  in  the  campaign  after  mascu- 
line admiration,  and  I  had  prepared  to  carry  it  out 
so  far  as  nature  and  instinct  would  permit.  I  had 
carefully  pressed  my  prettiest  white  gown,  a  filmy, 
ruffled  thing,  and  spread  it  out  on  my  bed,  with  a 
petticoat  that  was  long  enough,  but  not  too  long, 
lying  conveniently  near.  Where  is  the  woman  who 
has  not  shed  tears  and  used  feminine  profanity  be- 
cause she  could  not  find  exactly  the  right  petticoat 
at  an  eleventh-hour  dressing? 

As  I  came  into  my  room  I  glanced  toward  the 
bed  with  a  feeling  of  complacency,  then  I  turned 


PRINCE   CHARMING  75 

on  the  lights  and  looked  more  closely.  My  hopes 
fell  and  I  saw  that  the  gown  had  shared  in  the  gen- 
eral determination  of  everything  on  the  place  to  go 
wrong  that  afternoon  because  we  were  so  particu- 
larly anxious  that  all  should  go  right.  A  window 
near  the  bed  had  been  left  open,  in  the  hurry  and 
confusion,  and  the  dress  had  seemed  to  drink  in 
every  bit  of  dampness  that  it  could  find  lying  around 
loose.  It  looked  as  limp  and  dejected  as  if  it  had 
slept  in  an  upper  berth  the  night  before.  I  had  no 
other  thin  dress  that  was  available,  with  all  its  at- 
tachments, at  that  hour,  so  I  laid  aside  my  ambi- 
tion to  look  romantic  and  slipped  on  a  shirt-waist — 
with  a  collar  so  stiff  that  it  scratched  my  neck  until 
I  looked  as  if  I  bore  the  marks  of  the  guillotine. 

Toward  eight  o'clock,  after  it  was  inky  dark,  and 
mother  had  got  her  dessert  safely  stored  away  in 
the  refrigerator  to  cool,  she  and  I  were  taking  a 
breathing  spell  in  the  dining-room,  although  we 
were  holding  our  breath  every  other  minute,  listen- 
ing for  the  approach  of  wheels,  when  the  night  be- 
gan to  be  made  hideous  by  the  sounds  of  the  most 
violent  calf  distress  down  in  the  lot. 

"Ba-a-a-h!  Ba-a-a-a-ah!"  came  in  hoarse,  hollow 
bellows  to  our  already  overstrained  ears. 


76  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"It's  that  hateful  little  Jersey,"  mother  said,  start- 
ing up  and  going  toward  the  kitchen.  "He  has  his 
head  caught  in  the  fence  again !" 

"You  sit  still/'  I  said,  drawing  her  back  toward 
her  chair,  "I'll  go  and  send  Penates  to  unfasten 
him." 

There  were  savory  odors  in  the  kitchen,  and 
mammy  was  so  interested  in  the  final  outcome  of  the 
meal  that  she  had  abandoned  her  temporary  throne 
and  was  stirring  around  the  stove  as  usual.  The 
three  little  negroes  were  gathered  at  the  window, 
looking  out  into  the  blackness  and  listening  with  en- 
joyable horror  at  the  turbulent  sounds  from  the 
cow-lot. 

"Go  and  unfasten  him,  Penates,"  I  said.  "He'll 
kill  himself  and  us,  too,  with  that  noise !" 

But  Penates  looked  at  me  to  see  if  I  could  be  in 
earnest.  When  he  saw  that  I  was  he  began  to 
whine. 

"I's  a-skeered  to!"  he  half  whimpered. 

"The  idea !  A  great  big  boy  like  you !  What  are 
you  afraid  of?" 

"Granny's  done  tol'  us  the  devil's  gwiner  ketcli 
us,"  he  began,  and,  as  he  saw  mother  coming  in  at 
the  kitchen  door,  he  looked  appealingly  toward  her; 


PRINCE   CHARMING  77 

but  the  nerve-racking  strain  of  the  afternoon  had 
done  its  work  with  her — and  the  calf  voice  was 
something  frightful! 

"Your  granny's  an  old  idiot,"  she  said  force- 
fully, looking  with  wrath  toward  the  stove,  where 
mammy  was  peering  into  the  oven  in  an  entirely  de- 
tached fashion.  "You  go  straight  and  unfasten 
that  calf!" 

"Mis'  Mary,  I  declare  he'll  ketch  me  ef  I  so  much 
as  step  outside  the  do'  there  in  the  dark!  Granny's 
jus'  now  tol'  us  he's  watchin'  ever'  minute  to  ketch 
us—" 

"Lou,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to 
stuff  these  children's  minds  full  of  lies!"  mother 
said,  exasperated  out  of  all  semblance  of  her  gentle, 
even-tempered  self  by  the  piled-up  mishaps  of  the 
afternoon  and  the  anguish  of  the  present  moment. 

In  case  you  have  never  heard  a  calf  with  his  head 
caught  in  the  fence  I  will  state,  under  oath,  that  the 
diabolical  sounds  of  the  Brocken  scene  in  Faust  are 
dulcet  music  compared  with  the  cry  for  help  that 
the  terrified  creature  sends  forth.  It  usually  brings 
the  neighbors  for  miles  around  to  find  out  the  cause 
of  the  trouble,  or  rather  why  the  trouble  is  permitted 
to  continue — for  every  one  who  has  ever  heard  it 


78  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

once  knows  its  sound  for  ever.  What  an  unlovely 
salute  for  Prince  Charming  when  he  should  drive 
up  in  the  rainy,  black  night,  I  was  thinking  in 
agony ! 

Mammy  straightened  up  and  looked  at  mother  as 
steadfastly  as  she  had  looked  the  day  she  announced 
her  determination  of  marrying  Bill  Williams,  the 
"Yankee  nigger." 

"It's  a  sin  to  teach  children  about  the  devil!" 
Mother's  voice  was  a  challenge. 

"Sin?  Why,  Mis'  Mary!"  Mammy's  tones  were 
husky  with  horror.  "An'  you  been  a  church  mem- 
ber for  thirty  years!" 

"Well,  the  devil  has  never  entered  into  my  calcu- 
lations in  all  those  thirty  years,"  mother  responded 
hotly,  not  observing  that  father  had  slipped  up 
close  behind  her  and  was  listening  to  the  theological 
controversy  with  an  amusement  which  had  routed 
his  rheumatism. 

"Well — that's  between  you  an'  your  Maker," 
mammy  argued  stoutly.  "I'm  goin'  to  treat  my 
devil  with  some  respeck,  if  white  folks  don't  men- 
tion theirs  no  mo'  than  if  he  was  a  po'  relation  that 
lived  in  Arkansas !" 

Father  was  smiling  almost  audibly,  but  mother 


PRINCE   CHARMING  79 

was  not  looking  in  his  direction — and  the  little  Jer- 
sey had  evidently  found  no  balm  in  Gilead  for  his 
afflicted  head ! 

"I  don't  believe  there's  any  such  thing  as  a  devil !" 
mother  finally  broke  out  with  vehemence;  and  she 
had  turned  quickly  around  as  if  she  would  go  to 
the  cow-lot  herself,  when  she  beheld  father  stand- 
ing there,  a  look  of  amazement  upon  his  face. 

"Mary!  Have  I  lived  to  hear  you  deny  the  faith 
of  your  fathers?" 

But  mother  was  in  no  mood  for  banter. 

"Don't  you  talk  to  me  about  the  devil,  Dan  Field- 
ing!" she  said,  facing  him  squarely,  and  reluctantly 
unfolding  her  daintiest  linen  handkerchief  to  wipe 
the  little  beads  of  perspiration  from  across  her  up- 
per lip.  "I've  had  enough  to  make  me  believe  in 
him  this  day,  with  three  politicians  coming,  and  a 
thunder-storm,  and  a  broken  ice-factory,  and  rheu- 
matism and  gall-stones!" 

"Well,  you  know  you  were  the  one  who  suggested 
inviting  them  here,"  father  defended  himself, 
Adam-like. 

"Well,  maybe  I  was,  but  I  should  never  have 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing  if  you  hadn't  said,  with 
that  woebegone  look  of  yours  that  you  wished  you 


80  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

could  see  them  and  hear  them  talk  about  the  latest 
phases  of  the  situation!  Then,  just  to  please  you, 
I  suggested  that  it  was  too  bad  to  let  them  go  to 
that  dreadful  hotel  for  dinner,  when  it  would  be 
no  trouble  for  Mammy  Lou  to  prepare  one  of  her 
delightful  meals!" 

"Of  course,  neither  one  of  us  could  know  before- 
hand how  deucedly  contrary  everything  was  going 
to  turn  out  to-day,  else  I  should  have  told  you  not 
to  invite  them" — father  was  reiterating  in  what  he 
intended  for  a  soothing  tone,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
I  heard  the  tramp  of  feet  upon  the  front  porch,  for 
my  ears  all  the  time  had  been  straining  in  that  direc- 
tion, else  I  should  never  have  heard  them,  far  away 
as  the  kitchen  is,  and  with  that  hideous  noise. 

"Hush!"  I  implored,  as  the  footfalls  grew  quite 
distinct  and  I  pulled  down  my  cuffs,  settled  my  belt, 
fluffed  my  hair  out  a  little  more  at  the  sides,  and 
flicked  a  tiny  feather  off  the  toe  of  my  shoe. 
"They've  come !" 

"And  Ann  in  a  shirt-waist  suit,"  mother  sent  after 
father  as  a  final  shot  when  he  started  toward  the 
front  part  of  the  house,  "and  that  bovine  orchestra!" 

She  hurried  into  her  bedroom  and  made  a  motion 
with  her  powder-puff  before  she  followed  father, 


PRINCE   CHARMING  81 

while  I  stopped  in  the  dining-room  and  gave  a 
glance  of  satisfaction  at  the  shaded  lights,  the  old- 
fashioned  good  taste  of  the  furnishings,  and  the 
quantities  of  roses.  The  table  was  perfect,  and  I 
knew  mammy  too  well  to  doubt  that  the  dinner,  too, 
would  be  everything  that  palate  or  eye  could  desire ; 
then  I  glanced  into  the  great  old  gold- framed  mir- 
ror hung  above  the  mantelpiece. 

"I  believe  he'll  enjoy  his  dinner,"  I  decided,  nod- 
ding in  a  friendly  fashion  toward  the  reflection  in 
the  glass ;  and,  hearing  the  voices  still  coming  from 
the  direction  of  the  porch,  I  hurried  on  out  there. 

They  had  come !  In  truth  they  had  come,  but  alas 
it  was  not  Richard  Chalmers  and  satellites!  It  was 
Miss  Delia  Badger,  Mrs.  Sullivan  and  Neva, 
drenched  and  bewildered,  that  Bob  Hall,  the  fool, 
had  brought  from  Bayville ! 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Fielding,"  poor  Mrs.  Sullivan  was  say- 
ing beseechingly,  as  she  looked  at  mother's  startled 
face,  "do  you  know  what's  happened  to  Tim?  We 
was  to  stay  another  week  at  maw's,  but  when  Bob 
Hall  drove  into  Bayville  at  dinner-time  to-day  and 
said  he'd  come  after  somebody  that  wanted  to  get 
took  back  here  to  Mr.  Fielding's  house,  I  knew  it 
must  a-been  Tim  took  sick  and  sent!  for  me !  So  we 


82  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

all  piled  right  in  without  waitin'  for  me  to  belt  down 
my  Mother-Hubbard !" 

"Jumping  Jerusalem!"  said  father,  and  the  calf 
bellowed  dismally. 

Investigation  had  shown  the  Sullivan  cottage  to 
be  locked  and  barred,  and  the  supposition  was  that 
Tim,  although  not  already  sick,  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
be  so  in  the  morning,  as  persistent  telephoning  on 
my  part  finally  located  him  at  the  drug  store  with  a 
crowd  of  friends  whose  company  was  both  cheering 
and  inebriating. 

"I  better  git  Bob  to  drive  down  there  an'  git  ?im," 
Mrs.  Sullivan  suggested  forlornly,  looking  at  Bob, 
who  was  leaning  against  one  of  the  big,  white  col- 
umns and  twirling  his  cap  around  on  one  finger. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  dorit"  father  objected. 
"He'll  be  just  as  likely  to  drive  up  with  the  county 
undertaker  as  with  Tim  Sullivan!  I'll  go  myself." 

"But  who'll  get  the  calf  out  of  the  fence  corner?" 
mother  asked  anxiously,  as  father  walked  to  the 
hat-rack  for  an  umbrella. 

"Me!"  cried  Bob,  speaking  for  the  first  time,  but 
to  so  much  purpose  that  we  all  beamed  gratitude 
upon  him. 


PRINCE   CHARMING  83 

So,  after  being  "much  tossed  about  by  land  and 
on  the  deep,"  the  calf  was  finally  loosed  from  his 
pillory,  the  Sullivans  were  settled  in  the  sanctuary  of 
their  own  home,  the  lovely  dinner  was  eaten  in  si- 
lence, and  our  family  went  grumpily  to  bed. 

Then  this  morning  early  the  three  belated  dinner 
guests  drove  in  from  Bayville.  The  two  lesser 
lights  caught  the  nine-o'clock  car  into  the  city,  but 
Mr.  Chalmers  drove  on  to  the  little  hotel  in  the  vil- 
lage and  later  presented  himself,  in  due  calling  sea- 
son, at  our  house,  with  apologies  for  the  catastrophe 
of  last  evening.  Mother  said  he  had  spoken  of  it 
as  catastrophe  before  I  came  into  the  room,  but 
when  he  mentioned  the  accident  to  me  later  on  in 
the  day,  as  we  two  sat  quite  apart  from  the  others, 
he  referred  to  it  as  calamity. 

Father  and  Rufe  urged  him  to  spend  the  day,  an 
invitation  which  mother  warmly  seconded  after  a 
moment's  quick  recollection  of  how  many  of  the 
dainties  left  over  from  last  night's  feast  could  be 
creamed  and  pated  and  scuffled. 

He  said  it  was  rather  necessary  for  him  to  be  in 
town  that  day,  but  he  stayed ;  and  father  and  Rufe 
both  remembered  during  the  course  of  the  forenoon 
that  they  had  some  matters  to  attend  to  which,  if 


84  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

he  would  excuse  them  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  they 
would  despatch  with  all  possible  haste  and  rejoin 
him  before  the  ladies  had  quite  had  time  to  talk 
him  to  death ! 

Rufe  really  did  have  some  telephoning  to  the  city 
to  get  through  with ;  it  is  his  regular  morning  duty ; 
and  father  had  to  drive  across  part  of  our  place  to 
give  directions  about  some  fences  which  had  been 
washed  away  last  night.  Of  course,  mother  was 
needed  about  the  dining-room,  but  Cousin  Eunice, 
bless  her,  unselfishly  betook  herself  off  up-stairs  out 
of  pure  kindness  of  heart ! 

Even  the  day  was  one  of  those  golden  days  which 
come  at  the  very  end  of  summer,  when  the  cool 
morning  air  mounts  to  the  head  like  old  wine,  and 
the  rich  afternoon  sunshine  seems  to  hover  lovingly 
over  the  earth  and  rejoice  in  having  fulfilled  the 
summer's  glorious  promise.  All  through  the  morn- 
ing the  birds  caroled  as  happily  as  if  they  thought 
it  was  winter  instead  of  summer  a-dying;  then  later, 
they  settled  down  like  the  rest  of  the  world  in  the 
hushed  silence  of  the  hot  afternoon,  when  the  heat 
causes  a  brilliant  haze  over  the  fields  around ;  and  it 
seems  as  if  all  nature  rests. 

All  my  life  this  hour  of  summer  afternoons  has 


PRINCE   CHARMING  85 

held  a  strange,  undefinable  sadness.  When  I  was 
a  little  girl  and  used  to  spend  long  hours  out  under 
the  trees  reading,  my  book  would  always  drop  from 
my  hand  as  this  period  of  stillness  came  on,  and  my 
eyes  would  wander  away  to  the  intense  blue  of  the 
sky  and  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  the  distant  clouds, 
while  a  small  but  persistent  voice  seemed  to  keep 
mocking  my  memory  with  the  query:  "Can't  you 
remember  what  used  to  happen  on  days  like  this?" 

And  my  memory  would  grope  longingly  away 
after  the  lead  of  that  tormenting  voice,  and  it  would 
visit  all  the  far-away  lands  of  Romance,  summer 
lands  of  sunshine  always,  Italy,  India,  Egypt — but 
it  never  would  remember  exactly.  "Where  Tasso's 
spirit  soars  and  sings,"  I  used  to  repeat  in  a  mysti- 
fied wonder,  for  the  beauties  of  his  land  were  as 
familiar  to  me  as  my  own  fields  and  meadows. 

Then  I  grew  older  and  learned  about  reincarna- 
tion of  the  spirit.  "That's  it!"  I  cried  exultantly, 
hugging  the  beautiful  mysticism  to  my  heart.  "That 
is  bound  to  be  it !" 

Life  took  on  a  new  significance,  and  then  for 
months  I  felt  myself  one  with  the  initiated !  I  was 
radiantly  happy  and  achingly  miserable  with  this 
new,  intangible  philosophy;  then  Alfred  Morgan 


86  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

came  along  and  told  me  that  my  vague  memories 
were  imagination ;  and  that  my  restless  longings 
came  from  a  perpetual  idleness.  And  I  believed 
him,  because  I  could  not  hear  any  statement  from 
Alfred  Morgan's  lips  without  believing  it. 

"I'd  rather  have  tuberculosis  than  an  imagination 
like  yours,  Ann,"  he  had  said,  and  he  advised  me  to 
learn  to  cook. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  the 
day  and  the  surroundings  that  led  our  talk  into  un- 
usual channels  as  Richard  Chalmers  and  I  walked 
out  together  through  the  golden  afternoon  haze. 
Yes,  we  had  our  hour  alone  again,  as  in  the  morn- 
ing; but  not  by  accident  this  time.  He  had  gra- 
ciously demanded  it. 

"Can't  you  rescue  me  from  Clayborne's  relentless 
newspaper  spirit  ?"  he  had  asked  in  a  low  tone  while 
we  were  at  the  table.  I  smiled  assent,  whereupon 
he  looked  at  me  gratefully  and  a  few  minutes  later 
announced  that  I  had  promised  to  show  him  the  or- 
chard where  those  magnificent  peaches  grew. 

So  it  happened  that  when  the  rest  of  the  family 
dispersed  in  different  directions,  early  in  the  after- 
noon, I  pinned  on  a  big,  flat  hat — a  white  em- 
broidered affair,  with  a  great  bow  of  black  velvet 


PRINCE   CHARMING  87 

ribbon — and  walked  with  him  out  into  the  glow. 
Down  the  avenue  of  cedars  we  went  and  up  the 
broad  road,  for  the  orchard  can  be  reached  through 
a  big  gate  opening  off  the  pike,  and  the  distance  is 
much  longer  around  that  way.  We  soon  gained  the 
desired  shade  of  its  luxuriant  leafmess,  and  I  pointed 
out  to  him  our  most  noteworthy  trees.  He  admired 
their  beauty  without  looking  at  them. 

After  walking  around  the  orchard  a  bit  we  finally 
sat  down  on  a  fragment  of  stone  wall,  a  prehistoric 
structure,  which  still  protects  a  portion  of  the 
grounds;  and  he  took  off  his  hat  and  began  to  fan 
with  it.  His  forehead  was  a  little  damp,  and,  as  he 
wiped  away  the  perspiration,  I  observed  again  the 
exceeding  fairness  of  his  skin.  His  hair,  too,  is  so 
nearly  light  that  the  sprinkling  of  gray  is  almost 
unnoticed,  save  by  the  closest  scrutiny. 

My  survey  of  him,  while  at  close  range,  was  quite 
brief,  for,  after  a  remark  or  two  about  the  heat  at 
this  time  of  day,  he  turned  to  me  suddenly  and  asked 
with  disconcerting  straightforwardness : 

"What  were  you  doing  that  day  at  the  gates  of 
the  little  cemetery?" 

"Oh!  Why,  I  was  walking  around — trying  to  get 
warm." 


88  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

I  longed  to  ask  him  what  he  was  doing  there. 

"I  figured  that  day  that  you  were  a  faithful  little 
soul,  going  out  to  visit  some  hallowed  spot.  You 
looked  so  strikingly  dark  and  vivid  against  the  color- 
less background  of  the  sky  that  I  quite  thought  you 
were  Oriental.  Then  the  next  time  I  saw  you,  in 
the  lobby  of  the  city  hall — do  you  remember? — 
Well,  you  were  with  a  tall,  foreign-looking  woman, 
a  Russian,  I  imagined ;  so  that  convinced  me — " 

"She  is  a  Pole,"  I  corrected,  "but  she's  the  wife 
of  Doctor  Gordon,  a  great  friend  of  ours." 

" — and  that  convinced  me,"  he  went  on,  as  if 
Ann  Lisbeth's  nationality  were  of  no  more  moment 
to  him  than  one  of  the  bits  of  stone  which  I  had 
gathered  up  from  fragments  scattered  over  the  top 
of  the  wall,  and  was  making  white  marks  upon  the 
solid  rock  sides  with  these  tiny  splinters,  "that  you 
were  foreign."  Then,  in  a  lower  tone,  and  with  lit- 
tle hesitation  in  his  delightful,  drawling  voice,  he 
added:  "I  called  you  Rebecca — because  I  had  to 
call  you  something." 

"How  disappointing  to  find  me  a  plain  American 
girl!" 

"When  I  found  this  morning  that  you  are  an 
American  girl — I  deny  the  'plain' — I  gave  a  start 


PRINCE   CHARMING  89 

which  I  know  was  noticed  by  everybody  in  the  room ! 
It  isn't  often  that  I  lose  my  self-possession,  but  I  was 
amazed  to  find  you  here,  in  this  little  town — and  my 
friend,  Clayborne's,  niece." 

"His  wife's  cousin,"  I  explained,  but  again  he 
paid  no  attention  to  my  interruption. 

"I  had  haunted  the  theaters  and  shopping  dis- 
tricts for  weeks  last  winter — looking  for  Rebecca," 
he  finished  up.  "No  wonder  I  was  surprised  to  find 
that  you  are  you!" 

He  paused,  waiting  for  me  to  say  something,  and, 
just  because  it  was  the  last  thing  I  wished  to  say,  and 
because  I  would  not,  for  the  world,  have  had  him 
suspect  such  a  thing,  I  stammered  out  the  truth ! 

"I — I  wondered  who  you  were,  too,"  I  faltered. 
"You  are  so  entirely  Anglo-Saxon-looking;  and  the 
place  is  Hebrew !  Besides,  it  was  such  a  very  cold 
day  to  visit  a  cemetery !" 

He  smiled  a  little,  but  politely  caught  at  my  bait. 

"I  had  been  to  see  old  man  Cohen,  the  sexton.  He 
is  interested  in  politics." 

Then  we  fell  to  talking  about  foreign  types  of 
faces,  a  subject  which  he  discussed  extremely  well, 
having  traveled  everywhere,  as  I  felt  sure  he  had 
when  I  first  laid  eyes  on  him ;  and  from  the  types  of 


90  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

beauty,  we  fell  to  discussing  the  various  countries. 
He  looked  surprised  at  what  he  termed  the  "wist- 
ful" note  in  my  voice  when  I  asked  him  questions 
about  my  favorite  lands;  and  he  smiled  when  I  ex- 
plained to  him  that  I  have  never  been  anywhere. 

"So  much  the  better  for  your  enthusiasm,"  he  said 
with  the  provoking  air  of  a  person  who  has  been 
everywhere  and  done  everything — and  found  it  all 
a  bore.  "I  judge  that  you  are  a  very  enthusiastic 
young  woman." 

"My  daily  life  is  punctuated  with  exclamation 
points,"  I  admitted,  but  I  longed  to  ask  him  how  he 
knew  I  was  enthusiastic.  Still,  it  has  always  seemed 
in  bad  taste  to  me  for  a  girl  to  try  to  draw  a  man 
into  a  long  discussion  of  her  personality — a  new  ac- 
quaintance, I  mean.  Mammy  Lou's  slogan,  "Make 
yourself  beautiful,  and  skase,"  can  be  applied  in  de- 
vious ways  that  she  wotted  not  of  when  she  handed 
it  down  to  me. 

"I  suppose  that  is  partly  on  account  of  your  age?" 
he  said,  still  looking  at  me  with  his  amused  smile. 

My  age !  His  tone  and  smile  awoke  a  kind  of  re- 
sentment. He  must  feel  himself  infinitely  older  and 
wiser,  else  he  would  never  assume  that  superior  air. 

"Age  has  nothing  to  do  with  it !    It  is  entirely  a 


PRINCE   CHARMING  91 

matter  of  temperament,"  I  contradicted,  with  a  little 
show  of  feeling.  He  smiled  more  broadly,  and  a 
hot  flush  of  shame  spread  over  my  face  as  I  recalled 
my  dreams  of  this  man.  I  had  thought  of  him  for 
months,  had  imagined  him  in  every  great  and  heroic 
role;  had  made  a  hero  of  him.  Worse  still,  I  fan- 
cied that  he — perhaps — had  thought  of  me;  had 
stayed  here  to-day  because  he  had  found  me!  And 
here  he  was  smiling  down  at  me  as  he  made  playful 
remarks  about  my  age! 

"Why  should  you  look  distressed  over  a  mention 
of  your  age?"  he  suddenly  broke  in,  so  gently  that  I 
looked  up  in  surprise  and  found  his  face  grave.  He 
had  been  reading  my  thoughts — at  least  in  part. 
"Now,  if  you  were  as  old  as  I — that  would  be  some- 
thing worth  troubling  over." 

"You?  Yet  the  papers  always  speak  of  your 
youth.  They  will  call  you  the  'boy  governor'  when 
you're  elected." 

He  was  pleased  at  my  words. 

"Or  the  boy  who  also  ran — perhaps!  But  age 
is  only  a  relative  condition.  My  political  friends 
call  me  a  boy  because  I  am  only  thirty- seven  years 
old.  Yet,  to  you  that  age  may  seem  patriarchal. 
Doesn't  it?" 


92  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

I  thrilled  at  the  look  of  earnestness  in  his  eyes. 
He  was  the  one  now  who  was  concerned  over  what 
I  thought  of  his  age. 

"Rufe  is  thirty-seven,"  I  answered,  trying  to  make 
my  tone  non-committal. 

"And  yet  you  call  him  Rufe!" 

"I've  known  him  always.    He's  like  my  brother." 

"Well,  if  you  should  some  day  grow  to  know  me 
'always/  could  you — even  if  I  am  thirty-seven — 
could  you  call  me  Richard  ?" 

I  made  several  violent  white  marks  upon  the  old 
rock  wall  with  the  bit  of  stone  in  my  hand  before  I 
attempted  to  answer  this,  the  most  intimate  question 
ever  put  to  me  by  a  man  in  my  life.  Except  for 
Alfred  I  had  never  known  any  other  man  well,  and 
had  certainly  never  cared  about  sitting  with  one 
upon  an  old  stone  wall  while  the  glorious  summer 
afternoon  slipped  by.  All  I  knew  of  even  incipient 
love-making  I  had  read  in  books,  so  that  I  could  not 
tell  whether  his  question  meant  much  or  little.  I  had 
told  him  earlier  in  the  afternoon  that  I  was  booked 
for  a  long  visit  in  the  city  this  fall,  whereon  he 
had  congratulated  himself  on  his  friendly  footing 
with  the  Claybornes.  It  was  possible  he  meant — 


PRINCE   CHARMING  93 

"Could  you?"  he  repeated  softly. 

I  stopped  making  marks  and  threw  away  the  bits 
of  stone.  I  had  opened  my  lips  to  reply,  although  I 
do  not  know  what  I  had  intended  saying,  when  there 
was  an  Indian  yell  close  behind  us. 

"Whoopee!  Here  he  is  again!"  came  an  exultant 
voice,  and,  glancing  around,  we  beheld  a  freshly 
bathed  and  dressed  Waterloo,  digging  his  white 
linen  knees  and  elbows  into  the  soft  black  earth,  as 
he  raised  a  radiant  face  and  announced  his  second 
discovery  of  the  "little  tarrypin."  Grapefruit  fol- 
lowed him  at  a  respectful  distance,  while  Lares  and 
Penates  lingered  shyly  in  the  background  when  they 
espied  us. 

"And  here's  Ann"  Waterloo  explained,  in  great 
triumph,  waving  his  hand  in  my  direction.  "We 
can  make  her  tote  'im  back  to  the  house  for  us.  She 
ain't  skeered  of  'em !" 

"Quick!  Tell  me!"  Richard  Chalmers  insisted, 
and  his  seriousness  made  me  flippant. 

"Age  has  nothing  to  do  with  it!  It  is  entirely  a 
matter  of  temperament!" 

He  laughed,  quite  like  a  boy,  as  he  sprang  down 
from  the  wall  and  extended  both  hands  to  help  me. 


94  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

I  grasped  only  one  of  his  hands,  and  that  very  light- 
ly, as  I  stepped  to  the  ground. 

We  joined  the  little  band  of  hunters  and  thus 
formed  a  funny  procession  home.  Mr.  Chalmers 
and  I  were  in  the  lead,  his  right  hand  gingerly 
clutching  a  most  disinterested-looking  mud-turtle, 
while,  with  the  left,  he  attempted  to  help  me  over  the 
rough  places  in  the  road.  Waterloo  was  close  at  our 
heels,  while  the  three  little  negroes,  struggling  with 
their  giggles,  tagged  along  behind. 

The  task  of  "toting"  a  mud-turtle  fitted  so  ill  with 
his  immaculate  clothes  and  intense  dignity  that  I 
laughed  every  time  I  looked  up  at  him.  And  he 
laughed.  Perhaps  we  should  have  done  this,  even 
if  nothing  funny  had  happened,  for  the  late  after- 
noon was  so  beautiful,  and  everything  seemed  so 
happy.  The  birds  were  all  making  a  cheerful  fuss 
over  going  to  bed,  and  the  tinklings  that  lulled  the 
distant  folds  seemed  to  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  joyous. 

"I  shall  think  of  this  scene  the  day  you  are  inau- 
gurated," I  said,  still  laughing,  after  the  mud-turtle 
had  been  deposited  in  an  empty  lard  bucket  and 
borne  away  by  Waterloo  and  his  retainers.  We  hald 


PRINCE   CHARMING  95 

found  ourselves  alone  for  a  moment  in  the  shaded, 
deserted  library. 

"You'll  be  there  ?"  he  asked,  turning  toward  me  as 
I  stood  on  the  hearth  rug  and  leaned  my  elbow 
against  the  white  marble  mantelpiece.  As  he  had 
carefully  wiped  from  his  finger-tips  the  imaginary 
dust  from  the  mud-turtle  I  had  been  studying  his 
profile  in  the  mirror.  It  was  the  most  perfect  face 
I  had  ever  seen — unless — 

My  eyes  quickly  traveled  to  the  little  oval  portrait 
of  Lord  Byron,  the  old-time  idol  of  my  beauty-lov- 
ing soul.  I  used  to  kiss  his  picture  good  night  when 
I  was  twelve  years  old ! 

I  glanced  back  again  to  the  living  presence  of 
beauty  equally  as  perfect.  His  gray  eyes  were  upon 
me. 

"You'll  be  there — if  I  am  ever  inaugurated?"  he 
asked  again. 

"Of  course.    But  you'll  never  see  me." 

Outside  there  was  a  glorious  sunset,  red  and  yel- 
low and  orange.  It  was  like  a  sea  of  blood  and  a 
sea  of  gold,  with  a  wonderful  blending  of  the  two. 
The  radiance  was  trying  to  steal  in  at  the  shaded 
window,  and  I  started  across  the  room  to  open  the 


96  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

blinds  to  its  flood  of  glory.  He  put  out  his  hand  and 
stopped  me. 

"If  you  were  there,"  he  said  slowly  in  his  deep, 
rich  voice — which  is,  in  itself,  attraction  enough  for 
any  one  man — "if  you  were  there,  I  should  be  far 
more  conscious  of  that  than  of  the  inauguration." 

And  the  quick  look  which  followed  these  words 
made  a  feeling  of  having  been  born  again  run  in  lit- 
tle zigzag  streaks  of  joy  to  my  finger-tips. 


CHAPTER  VI 

NEVA'S  BEAU  BRUMMEL 

MANY  days  have  passed  since  Neva  and  her 
mother  made  their  dramatic  return  from 
Bayville. 

These  days  have  seemed  long  to  me,  but  short  to 
Neva,  for  protracted  meeting  has  been  in  progress — 
and  she  has  had  a  beau  swarm.  The  swell  young 
clerk  at  the  Racket  Store,  who  says  "passe,"  most 
Frenchily,  and  manicures  his  nails;  a  fat  drummer 
who  sells  lard  and  sings  bass ;  a  "wild"  young  man 
who  drives  a  fast  horse,  which  the  villagers  all  dis- 
cuss above  their  breath,  and  who  also  does  some 
other  things  which  they  take  care  to  discuss — but  in 
whispers ;  all  these  have  been  Neva's,  besides  Hiram 
Ellis,  a  young  farmer  whom  she  cares  for  most,  but 
makes  the  most  fun  of  behind  his  back. 

I  know  that  she  cares  for  him,  else  she  would 
never  have  counterfeited  a  swoon  one  hot  night  in 
church  when  the  service  held  on  an  unconscionable 

97 


98  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

time  and  she  feared  that  Hiram  would  become  im- 
patient and  start  on  his  five-mile  drive  to  his  farm, 
without  waiting  to  escort  her  home,  as  was  his  cus- 
tom when  she  happened  to  be  unaccompanied  by  any 
of  the  "town  fellows." 

From  her  point  of  vantage  in  the  choir  she  could 
see  that  Hiram  was  restlessly  moving  his  hands  and 
feet  about,  although  he  was  seated  on  the  back  bench 
and  there  was  the  church  full  of  perspiring  humanity 
between  her  and  the  gawky  object  of  her  secret  love. 

The  minister  continued  to  exhort  and  to  perspire, 
as  he  drank  glass  after  glass  of  water;  and,  as  the 
time  for  mourners  seemed  to  draw  no  nearer,  Neva 
took  that  night's  destiny  into  her  own  hands  and 
fainted — a  stiff,  peculiar  faint. 

Fortunately  she  was  sitting  close  by  a  small  door 
which  opens  directly  out  into  the  cool  night  air,  so 
that  her  carrying-out  could  be  accomplished  without 
any  ungraceful  display  of  uplifted  feet  and  sagging 
petticoats.  Neva's  artistic  temperament  could  never 
have  endured  that ! 

The  performance  created  small  notice  outside  the 
choir. 

Hiram  was  around  at  that  little  back  entrance  in  a 
twinkling,  his  good-natured,  sunburnt  face  a  picture 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEL  99 

of  devoted  anxiety.  Neva  was  sitting  on  the  steps 
shaking  with  a  considerable  degree  of  suppressed 
emotion,  but  not  looking  particularly  ill,  and  insist- 
ing that  her  mother  and  Aunt  Delia  should  go  on 
back  and  hear  the  sermon  to  its  end,  if,  indeed,  it 
had  an  end.  This  they  did,  after  seeing  Hiram  place 
Neva  carefully  in  his  buggy  and  start  off  home; 
but  they  failed  to  reach  the  choir  in  time  to  see  the 
whisperings  which  had  passed  between  two  of 
Neva's  rivals  who  sat  there,  and  who  were  not  unob- 
servant of  the  peculiar  nature  of  her  fainting-spell. 

"It  wasn't  like  any  faint  /  ever  saw  before,"  some 
one  openly  declared  to  Mrs.  Sullivan  after  the  serv- 
ice was  over,  whereupon  the  whisperings  between 
the  rivals  were  renewed ;  and  several  days  thereafter 
the  townspeople  were  frankly  discussing  Neva  Sul- 
livan's "spell." 

In  less  than  a  week  after  the  incident  which  I 
have  just  related,  because  there  is  absolutely  nothing 
of  my  own  happening  that  is  worth  relating,  Neva 
ran  over  one  day  in  a  great  flurry  of  excitement  to 
consult  my  expert  judgment  as  to  what  she  should 
wear  that  night,  as  a  young  gentleman  from  the  city 
had  come  down  to  see  her  and  was  coming"  out  that 
evening  to  call. 


ioo  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"A  young  gentleman  from  the  city !  How  excit- 
ing !"  I  congratulated  her.  "But  I  didn't  know  you 
knew  any  of  the  Beau  Brummels  up  there !" 

"That's  the  curious  part  of  it,"  she  explained  as 
she  sat  down  and  panted  a  little,  for  she  had  run 
across  the  road  and  up  our  long  walk.  "I  don't 
know  him — never  heard  of  him  before.  But  he  tele- 
phoned me  from  the  hotel  this  afternoon  that  he  had 
heard  of  me  and  had  come  down  to  see  me  on  busi- 
ness. His  name  is  Doctor  Simmons,  and  he  said  he 
was  very  anxions  to  see  me  at  once  and  give  me 
some  professional  literature." 

"Some  professional  what?"  I  asked,  for  she  was 
talking  very  fast,  and  her  enunciation  at  best  is  not 
like  a  normal  school  teacher's. 

"Professional  literature,"  she  repeated,  lingering 
over  the  words  this  time  as  if  they  were  chocolate 
creams.  "I  told  mamma  maybe  he  is  a  poet.  It 
sounded  kinder  like  it,  you  know — him  saying  'lit- 
erature.' " 

"I  don't  believe  that  poets  carry  around  profes- 
sional literature,"  I  said,  trying  to  let  her  down  easy, 
for  she  is  a  sad  little  visionary — and  somehow  I 
have  a  sympathy  for  visionaries.  But  he  was  a  man, 
a  new  man,  even  though  he  might  not  be  a  poet,  so 


NEVA'S    BEAU   BRUMMEL          101 

Neva's  solicitude  concerning  him  was  in  nowise 
dampened. 

"Well,  that's  what  he  said — 'professional  litera- 
ture,' "  she  kept  on  flutteringly — inconstant  little 
minx,  when  only  a  week  ago  she  had  disturbed  "pub- 
lic worship"  for  the  sake  of  driving  home  in  Hiram 
Ellis'  buggy! — "So  mamma  said  I  better  come  on 
over  and  ask  you  how  I  ought  to  dress  to  see  him ; 
and  oh,  how  I  ought  to  have  the  parlor  fixed !  You 
go  up  to  the  city  so  often,  of  course  you  know  all  the 
swell  ways." 

"I  reckon  I  do,"  I  said  confidently,  for  I  could  see 
the  chance  that  my  hands  had  been  itching  for  ever 
since  I  took  the  education  of  Neva  in  charge.  "First, 
you  must  empty  the  room  of  candy-boxes,  for  if  he 
is  a  prospective  suitor,  you  see,  all  those  boxes  would 
frighten  him  away.  He  would  think  you  are  entirely 
too  popular  already." 

"There  ain't  a  girl  in  this  town  got  half  as  many," 
she  said  rather  wistfully,,  and  I  saw  that  the  loss  of 
the  boxes  meant  bereavement  to  her.  "Mine  comes 
up  to  the  top  of  the  piano  on  both  sides,  while  Stella 
Hampton's  don't  more  than  fill  in  under  the  bottom 
of  the  center-table!" 

"But  you  must  remember  that  he  is  a  doctor,"  I 


102  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

reminded  her  soothingly,  "and  they  are  awfully 
queer  about  germs.  He  might  get  it  into  his  head 
that  those  empty  boxes  were  regular  nests  for  them 
— and  they  may  be,  for  all  we  know." 

"All  right — if  you  say  so,"  the  poor  child  said 
sorrowfully,  and  I  knew  that  her  affection  for  me 
had  been  put  to  a  fiery  test. 

"Then  the  McKinley  picture!  It  ought  to  come 
down.  It  is  dismal,  somehow — it  might  cast  a  dam- 
per over  his  feelings." 

"All  right,"  she  agreed  again,  much  more  will- 
ingly this  time.  "I  know  that  Mr.  Roosevelt  does 
look  more  cheerful,  so,  if  you  say  so — " 

"But  I  don't"  I  almost  shrieked.  "We  can  put  a 
tall  vase  of  roses  in  the  space  so  that  no  picture  will 
be  needed." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  lovely,"  she  exclaimed  grate- 
fully ;  "and  I'll  wear  flowers  in  my  hair." 

."I  believe  black  velvet  ribbon  will  be  prettier — 
just  a  band,  you  understand — no  combs  or  fancy 
pins.  Your  hair  is  too  pretty  to  be  disfigured  with 
ornaments." 

Her  eyes  showed  slow,  but  gratified,  comprehen- 
sion. 

"And  my  dress — "  she  hurried  on. 


103 

"A  rather  plain  white  one,"  I  suggested  fearfully, 
for  I  apprehended  trouble  there  as  with  the  candy- 
boxes.  "You  see,  he'll  not  like  to  find  you  with  a 
dress  which  has  lace  all  twisted  and  tortured  across 
the  front — doctors  are  such  humane  creatures." 

"I'm  just  dying  to  see  what  he  looks  like !"  she  ex- 
claimed, her  eyes  dancing.  "And  I'm  so  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"I  hope  you'll  have  a  pleasant  time  with  him,"  I 
started,  when  she  looked  at  me  in  dismay. 

"Oh,  surely  I'll  see  you  again  before  he  comes! 
Can't  you  come  over  a  little  later  on,  or  maybe  after 
I'm  dressed — to  see  if  I  am  fixed  all  right,  and  if 
the  parlor  looks  swell  ?"  Her  big  dark  eyes  held  a 
flattering  appeal. 

"Why,  of  course!  I'll  be  glad  to  get  mother  to 
run  over  there  with  me — just  before  time  for  him  to 
come,"  and  she  gave  my  arm  a  gratified  little  squeeze 
and  went  away  filled  with  charming  anticipations. 

As  the  mystic  hour  approached,  mother  and  I 
threw  crocheted  things  over  our  heads  and  started 
across  the  wide  road  which  lay  between  the  houses. 

Drawing  near  the  cottage  we  noticed  a  dim  light 
bobbing  about  queerly  just  off  the  front  porch,  and 
mother  clutched  my  arm  in  agony. 


104  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"Sttrely — surely  they're  not  hanging  Japanese 
lanterns  out  in  honor  of  his  coming!" 

"Oh,  I  hope  not,"  I  responded,  feeling  not  at  all 
certain  as  to  the  course  which  Neva's  enthusiasm 
might  take.  But  as  we  clicked  the  gate  and  passed 
on  into  the  yard  we  discerned  the  generous  outlines 
of  Mr.  Tim  Sullivan  rising  from  a  rickety,  three- 
legged  chair,  which  he  had  placed  directly  in  front 
of  Mrs.  Sullivan's  nasturtium  frame.  This  frame 
was  but  a  poor  skeleton  affair,  having  been  built  in 
the  yard  early  in  the  summer  for  the  flowers  to  clam- 
ber up  on,  but  the  fall  of  the  leaf  was  approaching, 
and  the  flowers  had  refused  to  clamber. 

In  one  hand  Mr.  Sullivan  held  a  small,  smoky 
lamp,  the  flame  of  which  was  entirely  a  one-sided 
affair;  and  in  the  other  he  brandished  a  paint  brush. 
We  knew  it  was  a  paint  brush  because  it  out-smelt 
the  lamp. 

"Come  in!  Come  right  in,"  he  invited  us  hos- 
pitably, and  as  he  gallantly  approached  to  light  us 
on  our  way  up  the  walk,  we  caught  a  whiff  of  his 
breath ;  and  the  paint  brush  and  the  lamp  faded  into 
insignificance  in  the  smelling  line. 

"Why,  what  are  you  doing,  Mr.  Sullivan?" 
mother  inquired  as  she  strained  her  eyes  toward  the 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEL          105 

nasturtium  frame  and  saw  big  splotches  of  green 
paint  smeared  about  at  intervals  upon  its  wooden 
gauntness. 

"I'm  painting,"  he  explained  politely,  as  he  held 
the  lamp  high  above  his  head  that  it  might  cast  its 
doubtful  rays  over  the  dark  walk.  "Just  painting." 

"But  why  paint  to-night  ?"  she  persisted,  doubtless 
wondering  if  this  was  being  done  in  honor  of  the 
"city  beau." 

"Why,  there  ain't  no  time  like  the  present,  as  I've 
always  been  told,  you  know,  Mrs.  Fielding,"  he  fur- 
ther elucidated,  his  voice  growing  louder  and  louder 
as  the  distance  between  us  increased,  and  as  we 
gained  the  freshly-scoured  front  steps  he  moved 
back  toward  his  field  of  operation  and  resumed  his 
work.  The  wild  sweeps  of  his  brush  gave,  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  unsteady  lamp,  the  impression  of 
some  weird  acrobatic  performance. 

We  went  into  the  house  and  found  the  feminine 
portion  of  the  family  in  a  state  of  conflicting  emo- 
tions. Mrs.  Sullivan  was  perfectly  limp  with  rage 
over  the  misfortune  of  having  Tim  even  mildly 
drunk  and  disorderly  on  the  night  when  Neva's 
destiny  might  be  hanging  in  the  balance.  Neva  her- 
self was  perturbed,  but  radiant,  and  was  praying 


io6  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

cheerfully  that  something  might  happen  to  check  her 
father's  artistic  endeavors  before  the  arrival  of  her 
beau.  That  Doctor  Simmons  was  a  suitor  for  her 
hand,  impressed  by  her  beauty  in  some  mysterious 
and  romantic  manner,  it  had  not  entered  into  Neva's 
silly  little  head  to  doubt ;  and  since  one  of  her  friends 
had  seen  the  young  gentleman  at  the  hotel  in  the 
afternoon  and  had  telephoned  her  that  he  was  the 
swellest-est  dressed  man  to  enter  that  town  since 
Heck  was  a  pup,  her  expectations  were  soaring  at 
dizzy  heights. 

I  found  that  fortunately  she  had  spent  the  force 
of  her  own  swell  longings  upon  the  attire  of  her 
mother  this  time,  inasmuch  as  I  had  so  urgently  rec- 
ommended simplicity  for  herself.  The  glittering 
combs  and  bandeau  were  adorning  Mrs.  Sullivan's 
head,  rising  resplendent  from  divers  unaccustomed 
puffs  and  braids  and  curls.  Mrs.  Sullivan's  hair 
ordinarily  wore  a  look  of  conventual  severity,  as 
did  her  hat,  but  there  was  never  any  congeniality 
between  the  two.  In  fact  they  were  never  on  speak- 
ing terms. 

"I  done  it  to  please  Nevar,"  she  confessed  to  me, 
smiling  wanly  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror,  "but 
if  I  had  a-had  my  way  I  wouldn't  a-done  it.  I  don't 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEL          107 

like  it.  If  I  had  a  tubful  o'  wet  clo'es  on  my  head 
it  couldn't  feel  no  heavier !" 

We  were  so  cordially  invited  to  remain  and  view 
the  stranger  from  a  speechless  distance  that  we 
finally  consented  to  do  so,  occupying  straight  chairs 
that  would  not  creak  and  betray  our  presence  as  we 
sat  at  the  front  window  of  the  room  opposite  the 
parlor  and  breathlessly  awaited  his  arrival. 

Presently  he  came  and  we  were  repaid  for  wait- 
ing. When  I  had  mentioned  him  in  the  afternoon 
as  being  a  possible  Beau  Brummel  I  little  realized 
what  an  inadequate  term  I  had  employed.  Beau 
Brummel  with  all  his  diamond-studded  snuff-boxes 
was  never  rigged  up  to  compare  with  Doctor  Sim- 
mons. In  stature  he  was  tall,  in  demeanor  grave,  in 
color  red-headed.  His  trousers  were  very  light  and 
his  shirt  was  very  pink,  while  a  large  diamond  stud 
gleamed  from  his  glossy  bosom.  Two  other  great 
stones  were  set  in  rings.  His  shoes  were  tan,  but 
his  hosiery  was  not;  and  his  broad  straw  hat  had 
birds  embroidered  in  the  band. 

Neva  received  him  nervously,  her  voice  high- 
pitched  and  unnatural.  Mrs.  Sullivan  bade  us  sit 
still  while  she  tiptoed  around  through  the  back  hall 
and  up  close  to  the  parlor  door,  where  she  could 


io8  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

overhear  the  announcement  of  his  mission.  Her 
maternal  anxiety  justified  this. 

We  sat  an  interminable  time,  it  seemed,  listening 
to  Miss  Delia  Badger's  low-toned  conversation, 
which  she  felt  must  for  politeness'  sake  be  kept  up ; 
but  there  was  no  light  in  the  room,  and  we  were  thus 
saved  the  pain  of  looking  at  her  parti-colored  hair, 
so  it  might  have  been  worse. 

After  a  long  time  Mrs.  Sullivan  came  in.  We 
could  not  see  her  face,  but  her  voice  had  the  most 
doleful  droop  I  had  ever  detected  in  its  depths,  and 
she  collapsed  into  the  nearest  chair. 

"He's  a  fit  doctor,"  she  announced  briefly,  after  a 
moment's  strained  silence. 

"A  what?" 

"A  fit  doctor.  He  cures  fits  up  at  his  hospital  in 
the  city.  Somebody  from  here  wrote  him  that 
Nevar  had  done  had  one.  He'll  give  a  gold-trimmed 
fountain  pen  for  ever'  name  of  a  fitified  person  you'll 
send  him." 

"How  unkind  of  the  one  who  wrote  him  about 
Neva!"  mother  exclaimed  in  an  indignant  whisper, 
but  I  was  unable  to  speak. 

"  Twas  some  of  them  mean  girls  in  the  choir," 
Mrs.  Sullivan  pronounced  lifelessly.  "They're  al- 


NEVA'S    BEAU   BRUMMEL          109 

ways  so  jealous  of  Nevar  having  the  most  beaus  and 
the  prettiest  dresses." 

"Well,  it's  a  shame!"  mother  repeated  wrathfully. 

"What  I'm  worrying  about  now  is  how  to  git  'im 
off  without  Tim  killing  'im/'  Neva's  mother  con- 
tinued, still  in  an  apathetic  whisper.  "If  he  could 
catch  the  nine  o'clock  car  out  o'  town  to-night  he 
would  be  safe,  but  it's  mighty  near  that  time  now. 
If  he  was  to  leave  this  early  and  Tim  out  there  paint- 
ing he  would  stop  'im  and  ask  'im  his  business.  Then 
there  would  be  a  killing  on  the  spot." 

It  was  not  clear  whether  Tim  would  kill  Doctor 
Simmons  for  curing  fits  or  Doctor  Simmons  would 
kill  Tim  for  painting  the  nasturtium  frame.  But 
mother  was  all  anxiety  to  avert  either  tragedy. 

"Well,  we'll  run  right  on  home  this  minute,"  she 
said,  rising  hurriedly,  and  her  inspiration  was  so 
sudden  and  so  happy  that  she  forgot  to  whisper, 
"and  ask  Mr.  Sullivan  to  go  with  us.  Then  Mr. 
Fielding  shall  make  him  a  mint  julep — while  you  ex- 
plain to  the  fit  doctor  that  he  would  better  make 
haste  back  to  his  hospital." 

There  were  grateful  whisperings  from  Mrs.  Sul- 
livan and  her  sister. 

"And  you'll  have  to  use  a  lantern  to  wave  the  car 


i  io  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

down,"  mother  turned  back  a  moment  to  caution 
them,  "for  it's  so  dark  they'll  never  see  you  if  you 
don't." 

But  Mrs.  Sullivan  did  not  wait  to  tamper  with  the 
chimney  of  a  lantern.  The  smoky  little  lamp  had 
been  placed,  still  lighted,  upon  the  edge  of  the  porch 
when  mother  had  mentioned  mint  julep  to  Mr.  Sul- 
livan. His  wife  caught  it  up  and  bore  it  along 
bravely  after  we  had  crossed  the  road  and  entered 
the  thick  shade  of  our  walk.  She  was  closely  fol- 
lowed by  a  very  homesick  physician,  whose  one  de- 
sire was  to  leave  this  quiet  little  town,  and  an  out- 
raged but  still  admiring  Neva. 

As  we  gained  our  front  porch  mother  whispered 
a  quick  word  into  father's  ear  and  he  hospitably 
bade  Mr.  Sullivan  follow  him  into  the  dining-room, 
while  she  and  I  quickly  turned  and  fled  back  down 
the  walk  to  the  front  gate. 

Yes,  they  had  him  safely  down  at  the  car  track, 
and  in  a  very  brief  while  the  car  came  along.  Mrs. 
Sullivan  made  spasmodic  little  signals  with  the  lamp, 
which  brought  the  car  to  a  standstill,  and  also 
brought  forth  a  thousand  rainbow  gleams  from  the 
jewels  in  her  hair.  Doctor  Simmons  stepped  upon 
that  running-board  with  all  the  alacrity  of  a  news- 


Ill 

boy  with  a  bundle  of  "extras."  He  deposited  his 
package  of  professional  literature  upon  the  seat  in 
front  of  him,  then  turned  and  gravely  lifted  his  hat 
to  the  ladies. 

"Thank  goodness!"  mother  said  with  a  sigh  of 
genuine  relief  as  we  watched  the  car  pull  out.  Then 
she  turned  to  me  and  for  the  first  time  that  evening  I 
could  discern  a  smile  in  her  voice. 

"Ann,"  she  said,  trying  to  speak  seriously,  "when 
I  see  other  women's  daughters  I  know  that  I  have 
much  to  be  thankful  for.  You  are  a  star-gazer  and 
a  poor  cook,  but,  oh  dear — you  don't  have  beaus 
from  the  city." 

"Touch  wood  before  you  boast,"  but  she  stopped 
and  caught  me  by  the  arm. 

"What  do  you  mean,  honey?"  she  questioned. 
"Has  Alfred—" 

"No,  indeed.  I  don't  mean  anything  except  that  I 
am  at  the  age  of  Eve  and — very  hopeful." 

"Well,  you  know  what  we  all  think  of  Alfred," 
she  said,  then  stopped  still  at  the  lower  step  and 
broke  off  a  dead  twig  from  a  rosebush  near  by.  A 
shaft  of  light  was  shining  from  the  hall  and  I  could 
see  that  her  face  was  very  earnest.  It  was  the  first 
time  in  my  life  she  had  ever  spoken  to  me  of  lovers. 


ii2  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"And  I  think  everything  of  Alfred  that  you  do—- 
and more,"  I  assured  her,  "but  I  am  not  in  love  with 
him.  I  might  be — if — under  other  circumstances 
1  might  be,  but  not  now !" 

She  deliberately  lingered  at  the  steps,  and  we 
heard  pleasant  sounds  coming  from  the  dining-room. 

"Eunice  and  I  fancied  that  Mr.  Chalmers  looked 
at  you — er,  rather  attentively  the  other  day,"  she 
ventured  timidly,  as  if  to  try  to  draw  me  out,  yet 
dreading  a  little  the  answer  I  might  make. 

"That  might  have  been  imagination,"  I  parried. 

"But — we  also  imagined  that  you  looked  at  him." 

"Well,"  I  answered  with  a  laugh  which  I  hoped 
would  sound  light,  "haven't  you  just  said  that  I 
am  a  .y/ar-gazer  ?" 

With  this  admission  I  ran  away  up-stairs. 

Yes,  I  had  looked  at  him.  And  since  then  it 
seemed  that  there  had  been  nothing  for  my  eyes  to 
rest  upon  that  did  not  bear  the  impress  of  his  face. 

He  had  stayed  through  that  long,  perfect  day,  and 
had  left  when  the  cool,  white  night  was  at  the  zenith 
of  its  beauty.  The  cool,  white  night  which,  alas,  had 
to  be  followed  by  a  morning  after !  I  had  never,  un- 
til then,  felt  this  way  about  the  morning,  for  it  has 
always  been  my  favorite  time  of  day,  my  only 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEL          113 

thought  upon  arising  being  an  eager  craving  for  the 
sunshine.  But  then,  I  had  never  known  until  that 
time  just  what  an  exquisite  thing  night  could  be. 

There  is  a  little  sepia  copy  of  the  Sistine  Madonna 
hanging  across  the  room  from  my  bed  where  I  can 
see  it  the  first  thing  when  I  awake  every  morning; 
and,  on  bright  days  there  is  a  golden  bar  of  sunlight 
which  comes  traveling  in  and  across  the  ceiling  until 
it  falls  upon  the  picture.  I  lie  still  and  watch  it  until 
it  has  reached  the  Virgin's  heart,  then  I  get  up  and 
open  all  the  windows  to  the  light.  It  serves  me  in 
place  of  a  clock,  and  much  better,  for  it  is  true  as  to 
time,  and  it  has  no  unpleasant  way  of  striking  a 
sudden  and  disenchanting  note  which  breaks  in  upon 
my  dreams. 

My  warning  little  ray  of  sunshine  was  casting  a 
spot  of  intense  light  directly  upon  the  Mother's  heart 
as  I  turned  and  glanced  toward  it  for  the  first  time 
on  the  morning  after  Richard  Chalmers'  visit,  but 
I  was  so  tired  that  I  lay  still  until  it  had  traversed 
the  entire  length  of  the  wall  and  settled  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  floor.  I  was  not  enjoying  that  stretch- 
ing, smiling,  lazy  luxuriance  which  I  sometimes  in- 
dulge in  after  a  too  brief  sleep.  That  is  a  pleasant 
sort  of  lingering  upon  the  threshold  of  the  day,  but 


ii4  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

this  other  feeling  of  mine  was  the  deadening  re- 
action which  comes  after  a  period  of  over-tension. 

"You  are  a  nervous  freak,"  I  said  disgustedly  as 
I  finally  jumped  out  of  bed  after  a  soft  suggestion 
from  Dilsey  that  I  should  find  my  bath  prepared  if 
I  could  only  be  induced  to  get  up  and  go  seek  it. 
I  crossed  the  convent-like  little  apartment  which  it 
has  pleased  my  fancy  to  fix  up  as  a  sleeping-chamber 
and  made  for  a  mirror  in  the  adjoining  room,  for 
there  is  "some  little  luxury  there" — flowered  cur- 
tains and  Battenburg  table-covers  and  punched 
score-cards.  I  wished  to  see  if  there  were  outward 
and  visible  signs  of  the  change  which  was  causing 
such  inward  tumult. 

"You  are  a  freak,"  I  repeated  as  I  looked  in  the 
mirror  and  noticed  that  my  eyes  appeared  heavy  and 
tired ;  and  my  tongue  felt  as  thick  as  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing newspaper.  "It's  a  pity  you  can't  keep  your 
emotions  stopped  up  in  a  vial  and  portion  them  out 
with  a  medicine-dropper — instead  of  soaking  your- 
self in  them!" 

Dilsey  had  left  the  water  running,  as  she  has 
learned  to  do  on  mornings  when  I  am  unusually  lazy, 
for  no  woman  who  has  a  domestic  heart  in  her 
bosom  can  lie  abed  and  run  the  risk  of  the  tub  over- 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEE          115 

flowing  and  making  a  mess  of  the  bath-room  floor. 
I  slipped  my  feet  into  some  flip-flop  Turkish  slippers 
— if  Turkish  women  have  to  wear  such  footgear  as 
this  I  don't  blame  them  for  sitting  still  most  of  the 
time;  but  then  they  have  the  comfort  of  trousers, 
poor  dears ! — and  went  to  turn  off  the  water. 

"Of  course  he  thinks  you  are  an  absurd  young 
person  who  openly  tried  to  make  eyes  at  him,"  I 
mused,,  as  I  gave  a  savage  twist  that  stopped  that 
provoking  sound  of  water  wasting. 

When  I  had  imagined,  upon  first  seeing  him,  that 
Richard  Chalmers  had  warring  elements  in  his  char- 
acter I  was  only  saying  about  him  the  things  I  knew 
to  be  true  of  myself.  "He  does  bad  things  some- 
times, but  he  never  enjoys  doing  them,  because  he 
has  a  conscience  that  will  not  let  him."  This  is  my 
own  disposition,  and  I  fancied  that  it  might  be  his, 
because  his  eyes  bear  a  dissatisfied  look,  as  if  he  did 
not  come  up  to  his  own  ideal  of  himself. 

Alfred  Morgan  is  entirely  different.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  he  ever  had  a  morbid  regret  in  his  life.  In 
his  work  he  is  fanatically  conscientious,  doing  the 
best  he  can  and  knowing  that  his  best  is  as  good  as 
any  other  man's,  for  he  does  not  attempt  anything 
unless  he  is  sure  of  his  qualifications.  This  does  not 


ii6  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

imply  any  lack  of  grief  and  worry  when  a  patient 
"goes  to  the  bad."  He  does  grieve,  sitting  with  his 
head  between  his  hands,  while  his  black  hair  is 
ruffled  up  like  a  shoe-brush  straight  across  his  fore- 
head. Sometimes  he  softly  repeats,  "Well,  I'll 
swear!  Well,  I'll  swear!" — in  a  baffled,  helpless 
sort  of  way,  but  you  know  that  he  has  not  been  help- 
less where  any  other  man  would  have  been  potent. 
And  he  never  has  the  soul-eating  remorse  which  fol- 
lows the  knowledge  that  one  might  have  done  better. 

As  to  Alfred's  life,  I  imagine  that  it  is  kept  in  the 
same  condition  of  fitness  that  his  body  is — clean  and 
wholesome,  yet  full-blooded  and  entirely  normal.  If 
he  should  meet  red-robed  Folly  on  a  pleasant  high- 
way he  would  undoubtedly  linger  a  while,  taking  off 
his  hat  politely  and  addressing  her  as  Human  Na- 
ture. He  would  shake  hands  good-temperedly  as  he 
left  her  and  promise  to  come  again  some  time  when 
his  business  engagements  would  permit.  But  he 
would  never  give  the  matter  another  thought  prob- 
ably. 

Richard  Chalmers'  cold  face  proclaims  an  asceti- 
cism that  would  call  the  prettily  dressed  little  Folly 
"Sin,"  yet  I  fancy  that  he  would  linger — much 
longer  than  Alfred,  no  doubt — and  leave  the  gay 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEL          117 

fairy  with  a  frown  on  his  face,  which  would  remain 
until  the  next  morning,  when  he  would  throw  his 
bootjack  at  his  valet. 

Where  was  I?  Oh",  yes,  I  had  just  turned  the 
water  off!  It's  a  good  thing  I  did,  too,  before  this 
digression,  or  the  house  would  have  been  flooded. 

Again,  what  I  have  said  of  Richard  Chalmers  is 
also  true  of  myself.  I  had  lingered  on  the  pleasant 
highways  with  a  delightful  Folly  all  day  yesterday, 
which  seemed  to  me  in  the  cold  light  of  day  this 
morning  a  sort  of  Sin.  A  sin  against  good  sense,  I 
concluded,  or  against  good  taste,  especially  if  he 
noticed. 

"A  horrid  young  idiot!  Of  course  that's  what  he 
considered  you  were."  I  kept  torturing  myself  with 
these  thoughts  until  others  more  agonizing  still  came 
to  torment  me.  Suppose  he  had  not  thought  of  me 
at  all! 

The  dash  of  the  cold  water  restored  me  to  some- 
thing much  more  nearly  like  my  normal  self,  and  by 
the  time  I  had  combed  the  tangles  out  of  my  hair 
and  spoken  to  a  pair  of  redbirds  which  live  in  a 
tree  right  by  my  window  I  was  feeling  poetry  again. 
A  shower  of  scattered  cigar  ashes,  which  Dilsey  had 
not  yet  swept  off  the  front  porch,  with  two  or  three 


u8  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

red-and-gold  bands  which  I  had  noticed  on  his 
cigars,  set  me  singing. 

"You're  not  an  idiot  at  all,  Ann,"  I  commented, 
as  I  looked  about  to  make  sure  that  no  one  was 
near,  then  grabbed  up  one  of  these  red-and-gold 
bands.  "No  wonder  you  have  lost  your  head  over 
him,  for  he  is  perfectly  beautiful,  and  you  always 
did  get  intoxicated  on  beautiful  things. — And  if  he 
wasn't  impressed  too,  his  eyes  were  lying!  No,  they 
could  not  lie,  because  they  are  too  lovely!" 

I  knew  that  the  family  would  all  be  talking  about 
him  at  the  breakfast-table,  which  I  found  to  be  true, 
and  they  were  so  absorbed  in  their  talk  that  they 
all,  except  mother,  gave  me  a  perfunctory  greeting- 
as  I  came  in.  Strange  to  say,  they  were  not  talking" 
about  his  good  looks. 

"Well,  he's  had  occasion  to  study  the  question  in 
all  its  phases,"  Rufe  kept  on  with  the  subject  at 
hand  as  I  slid  into  my  chair  and  gave  myself  up  to 
the  charms  of  a  breakfast  food.  "He's  studied  it  in 
nearly  every  land.  He  spent  a  part  of  last  year 
in—" 

"I  think  one  of  the  delights  of  wide  travel  is  to 
be  able  to  pronounce  names  of  obscure  places  in  such 
a  way  that  stay-at-homes  won't  know  what  you're 


NEVA'S    BEAU    BRUMMEL          119 

talking  about,"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  looking  toward 
mother  and  me.  She  had  not  intended  interrupting 
the  masculine  conversation,  but  Rufe  stopped  and 
listened  to  what  she  had  to  say,  which  proves  that  he 
is  a  model  husband,  I  think — "Did  you  notice  how 
he  called  Peru  Tayrhu'  last  night?  Of  course  he's 
been  there." 

"I  noticed  the  new-fangled  way  he  had  with  sev- 
eral of  his  words,"  father  said,  a  bit  drily.  "He 
differentiated  between  'egoist'  and  'egotist.'  He 
seems  to  have  been  there,  too." 

"Surely,"  Rufe  coincided  so  willingly  that  I  was 
amazed.  "But  the  quality  of  egotism  possessed  by 
this  fellow  is  not  the  cheap,  objectionable  kind.  He 
simply  has  unlimited  faith  in  himself,  and  an  un- 
limited ability  of  making  other  people  do  what  he 
wants  them  to  do." 

"A  tyrant,  then?"  father  inquired  with  a  half- 
smile  at  Rufe's  enthusiasm. 

"Not  at  all — a  governor." 

"Well,  who  is  he  and  where  did  he  come  from?" 
mother  asked,  coming  into  the  discussion  in  an  ab- 
stracted sort  of  fashion.  "I  never  heard  of  him 
until  the  last  few  months." 

Then  followed  a  long  discourse  concerning  Rich- 


120  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

ard  Chalmers'  past  life,  and  his  qualifications  for  the 
office  which  he  might  be  called  upon  to  fill — all  of 
which  fell  like  diamonds  and  rubies  from  their  lips, 
for  it  was  all  creditable  to  him. 

The  look  of  strength,  which  had  told  its  own  story 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  him,  and  which  had 
since  then  held  me  in  the  spell  of  a  fascinated  mem- 
ory— it  was  all  true,  then !  As  I  listened  to  the  story 
of  how  the  man  had,  by  sheer  strength  and  personal- 
ity, raised  himself  from  being  simply  a  well-thought- 
of  young  lawyer,  with  a  good  deal  of  inherited 
wealth,  to  his  present  position  in  the  minds  of  the 
state's  best  politicians,  I  felt  that  he  must  possess 
that  steel-clad,  relentless,  yet  necessary  attribute — 
power. 

Now,  I  revere  power,  whether  in  man,  or  beast,  or 
automobile. 

"Next  to  marrying  it,  the  worst  way  on  earth  for 
a  man  to  get  money  is  to  inherit  it,"  father  said, 
apropos  of  the  story  we  had  just  heard.  "It's  bad 
for  the  man,  and  it's  bad  for  the  money." 

We  all  laughed  a  little  and  agreed  with  father, 
then  Rufe  became  aware  of  my  presence  for  the  first 
time. 

"And  Mistress  Ann  has  not  had  a  word  to  say 


NEVA'S   BEAU   BRUMMEL          121 

upon  this  interesting  subject,"  he  said  chaffingly, 
looking  around  as  if  he  had  not  seen  me  before, 
which  in  truth  he  had  not,  for  he  had  been  so  ab- 
sorbed when  I  came  in  that  he  merely  nodded  a 
"good  morning"  without  detaching  his  mind  from 
his  discussion.  "He  was  so  visibly  impressed,  too." 

"Shut  up,  Rufe — teasing  her,"  Cousin  Eunice 
commanded  after  she  had  looked  at  my  face. 

"I  swear  I  wasn't  teasing,"  he  insisted  more 
soberly.  "I  don't  believe  Chalmers  looks  at  a 
woman  once  a  year — he  hasn't  time  for  them,  and 
besides,  he's  a  cold-blooded  devil — but  he  looked  at 
Ann  many  times  throughout  the  course  of  the  day, 
to  say  naught  of  'toting'  home  a  mud-turtle  for  her 
dear  sake.  Then  when  he  was  leaving  last  night  he 
asked  me  again  whether  the  Fieldings  were  related 
to  me  or  to  my  wife." 

"Did  you  tell  him  the  truth*  or  did  you  talce  the 
credit  to  yourself?"  I  inquired  sarcastically. 

"No,  I  confessed  that  the  beauteous  blossom 
springs  from  the  same  tree  that  produced  that  per- 
fect flower,  Mrs.  Clayborne.  But  I  told  him  that 
the  fact  of  my  having  'raised'  you  invested  you  with 
a  'dearness  not  your  due' — from  blood  ties  alone." 

"Well,  she  will  have  the  honor  of  being  looked  at 


122  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

by  him  a  great  many  times  this  fall,  when  she  goes 
home  with  us,"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  then  turning  to 
mother  she  added :  "And  she  will  need  a  bushel  of 
pretty  clothes,  Aunt  Mary." 

"I  want  one  black  dress,  with  a  spangled  yoke," 
I  hastily  put  in,  but  was  interrupted  by  little  shrieks 
of  disapproval  from  the  two.  "I — thought  I'd  have 
to  look  kind  of  old"  I  wound  up,  as  they  regarded 
me  with  amused  surprise. 

After  breakfast  was  over  Cousin  Eunice  gathered 
up  her  tablet  and  pencil  and  nodded  for  me  to  come 
with  her. 

"I  want  to  look  at  your  face  as  I  write,"  she  ex- 
plained with  a  sympathetic  smile,  "for  I  am  hope- 
lessly stupid  and  commonplace.  I  can't  even  think 
of  a  surname  for  my  hero  that  isn't  already  the  name 
of  an  automobile." 


CHAPTER  VII 

ALFRED 

COUSIN  EUNICE'S  new  house  in  the  city, 
which  is  really  a  very  old  house  with  the  ad- 
dition of  all  the  wires  and  pipes  and  hardwood  trim- 
mings which  we  think  we  can't  live  without  these 
days,  is  a  love  of  a  place.  They  bought  it  for  the 
height  of  the  ceilings  and  the  size  of  the  rooms, 
where  every  member  of  the  family  can  spread  out 
like  a  fried  egg.  But  its  especial  glory  is  the  draw- 
ing-room, a  long,  stately  apartment  all  tricked  out 
in  the  deepest,  wild-woodiest  green. 

The  walls  and  hangings  are  of  the  hue  that  our 
Mother  Nature  loves  best,  while  the  antique  furni- 
ture is  the  color  of  chestnuts  at  Hallowe'en.  There 
are  dark-toned  pedestals  at  intervals,  holding  jars 
of  ferns,  and  the  entire  room  presents  such  a  per- 
fect reproduction  of  a  shady  nook  in  the  woods  that 
Rufe  declared  at  first  he  dared  not  venture  into  it, 
for  fear  of  being  snake-bitten. 

123 


124  AT    THE   AGE    OF    EVE 

There  is  a  big  leather  chair  over  in  one  secluded 
corner,  a  chair  which  will  easily  hold  the  entire  Clay- 
borne  family,  and,  on  nights  when  there  is  no  com- 
pany and  they  are  in  a  sentimental  mood,  the  mar- 
ried lovers  pretend  that  the  room  is  the  ravine  in 
which  they  did  their  courting,  and  that  the  big  chair 
is  the  old  gray  rock  they  were  sitting  on  when  he 
proposed  to  her. 

This  is  a  delightful  make-believe — for  them.  Us- 
ually Waterloo  and  I  are  thrown  upon  each  other 
for  companionship,  if  it  is  late  in  the  evening  and 
Grapefruit  has  gone  home. 

He  often  begs  for  music,  which  I  am  always  glad 
to  furnish,  or  would  be  if  his  taste  were  not  so  very 
pronounced  and  so  limited,  and  does  not  by  any 
means  include  my  favorite  classics. 

"You  play  'Ditsie,'  and  I'll  play  Tittle  Ditsie/  " 
his  baby  voice  suggests,  as  he  finds  his  French  harp 
and  blows  a  violent  accompaniment.  But  if  I  tire 
of  this  and  my  fingers  wander  off  into  the  mournful 
notes  of  the  Miserere  from  //  Trovatore  (another 
love  of  my  youth)  his  harp  and  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  drop  simultaneously,  and  he  implores  me  not 
to  play  that  "poor  song." 

This  has  not  happened  very  many  times,  however, 


ALFRED  125 

for  there  is  nearly  always  somebody  here.  The  Gor- 
dons frequently,  and  sometimes  Alfred.  They  never 
come  together,  for  whenever  Doctor  Gordon  goes 
out  anywhere  at  night  Alfred  has  to  stay  at  home 
and  attend  to  the  calls  that  come  in.  This  is  what 
a  "cub"  is  for ;  then,  too,  it  gives  the  Gordons  a  bet- 
ter chance  to  talk  about  him,  which  they  take  as 
much  pleasure  in  doing  as  if  he  were  their  own  dear 
son. 

It  is  amazing  how  much  they  all  think  of  Alfred. 
Not  amazing,  certainly,  in  any  sense  that  he  is  not 
worthy  of  all  the  affection  they  bestow  upon  him, 
but  I  believe  that  it  is  seldom  a  girl  has  a  young  man 
thrown  at  her  head  so  unanimously  as  I  have  Alfred 
thrown  at  me  by  our  loving  friends. 

If  he  threw  himself  I  should  die,  but  he  never 
does. 

He  is  frank,  and  loyal,  and  sober-sided;  just  a 
little  merry  with  me  now  and  then,  but  for  the  most 
part  going  his  even-tenored  way  and  doing  his  work 
without  any  more  fuss  and  splutter  than — a  fireless 
cooker.  He  never  talks  about  what  he  is  going  to 
do,  although  his  eyes  are  so  deep  and  brown  that  I 
feel  sure  he  is  a  dreamer. 

He  is  the  kind  of  man  who  seems  to  walk,  with 


126  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

deliberate  yet  sure  step,  into  the  things  he  wants. 
This  denotes,  of  course,  that  he  has  sat  up  late  many 
nights,  smoothing  out  rough  places  in  the  road,  so 
that  his  course  might  be  dignified  and  steady  when 
he  gets  ready  to  run  it. 

And,  if  Solomon — or  whoever  it  was — told  the 
truth  about  silence  being  golden,  then  Alfred  Mor- 
gan is  sinfully  rich.  He  is  timid,  too,  around  women 
— well  women,  I  mean ;  and  I  don't  believe  he  would 
ever  have  grown  so  fond  of  me  if  he  had  not  first 
known  me  at  an  age  when  I  wore  such  plain  linen 
blouses  and  soft  silk  ties  you  couldn't  tell  whether  I 
was  a  boy  or  girl. 

Even  after  my  dresses  began  to  sweep  the  ground 
I  think  he  still  thought  of  me  as  a  boy.  "You're  a 
good  little  chap,"  he  would  say  to  me  occasionally 
when  I  had  done  something  for  his  comfort  or  pleas- 
ure; and  I  so  entirely  considered  him  a  boy  in  spite 
of  those  six  years  between  us  that  I  seldom  felt  to  see 
how  my  hair  was  arranged  when  I  would  hear  his 
footsteps  approaching. 

Then,  one  day  I  had  a  rude  shock  about  Alfred's 
degree  of  manhood. 

Ann  Lisbeth  and  I  were  in  his  private  office  wait- 
ing for  Doctor  Gordon  to  get  through  with  a  string 


ALFRED  127 

of  patients  which  was  overflowing  the  reception- 
room,  and  write  out  a  check  for  her  to  take  on  a 
shopping  excursion.  (Things  have  changed  with 
them  since  the  days  of  their  early  married  life,  when 
Ann  Lisbeth  got  a  new  dress  only  once  a  year ;  and 
then  had  to  have  it  made  by  somebody  who  was  ow- 
ing her  husband  for  a  baby  or  a  spell  of  measles.) 

There  was  plenty  of  space  in  Alfred's  room,  poor 
boy,  and  I  was  sitting  in  front  of  his  desk,  idly 
fingering  some  papers  and  journals  lying  around 
in  scattered  confusion. 

My  attention  was  arrested  presently  by  a  small, 
oblong  blotting-pad,  with  his  name,  Doctor  Alfred 
Morgan,  printed  on  the  celluloid  cover.  The  drug 
firms  of  the  city  sent  such  things  out  to  all  the  doc- 
tors occasionally,  but  this  was  a  particularly  pretty 
one,  with  a  little  raised  medallion  on  it — a  picture 
of  a  stately  stork  approaching  a  cheery  little  cottage, 
with  the  fat,  rosy,  inevitable  burden  in  his  bill.  The 
moon  and  stars  were  shining  as  they  never  shone 
on  sea  nor  land,  and  there  was  a  comfortable  glow 
coming  from  the  cottage  windows,  a  glow  of  wel- 
come, it  seemed. 

It  was  a  happy-looking  little  picture,  but  it  brought 
a  curious  feeling  of  uneasiness  to  my  mind. 


128  AT   THE   AGE   OF,   EVE 

"Ann  Lisbeth,"  I  called,  loud  enough  to  cause  her 
to  look  up  from  the  magazine  she  was  reading,  yet 
not  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  by  Alfred,  who  was  in 
the  next  room  making  a  blood  count.  "Do  you  sup- 
pose they  let  anybody  as  young  as  Alfred  do  this?" 
I  held  up  the  picture. 

"Oh,  my  goodness,"  she  laughed,  looking  not  so 
much  at  the  picture  as  at  my  horrified  face.  "Young! 
Why,  he  has  two  pairs  of  twins  named  for  him,  be- 
sides a  little  girl  whose  happy  parents  are  so  fond 
of  him  that  they  made  him  name  her.  Her  name  is 
Ann  Morgan." 

"The  Ann  is  for  you"  I  cried,  my  face  flushing. 

"Nay,  for  you,"  she  insisted,  still  laughing  so  that 
Alfred  heard  her  and  came  in  to  see  what  it  was  that 
was  so  funny. 

"Some  of  Ann's  nonsense,"  she  explained,  and  I 
slapped  the  blotter  into  my  purse  before  he  turned 
and  looked  at  me. 

After  that  I  naturally  began  to  treat  Alfred  with 
a  good  deal  more  respect,  which  he  never  seemed  to 
notice. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  began  finding  a 
"good  class"  of  patients  who  were  trusting  enough 
or  reckless  enough  to  let  him  operate  on  them ;  pa- 


ALFRED  129 

tients  who  remembered  his  work  at  the  hospital,  or 
who  were  willing  to  take  Doctor  Gordon's  word 
for  it  when  he  assured  them  that  Morgan  could  do 
the  job  as  well  as  he  himself.  Of  course  this  last  hap- 
pened only  when  there  was  an  emergency  case  that 
Doctor  Gordon  could  not  attend  to,  or  an  out-of- 
town  call  that  promised  to  have  so  little  compensa- 
tion that  the  elder  doctor  felt  that  he  would  not  be 
jusified  in  leaving  the  city  for  it. 

And  then  it  was  that  perhaps  some  old  six-cyl- 
inder surgeon  who  happened  to  see  the  operation 
would  go  away  and  remark  that  he  always  knew 
Morgan  was  going  to  make  good,  for,  by  George! 
the  fellow  handled  the  knife  like  a  veteran! 

These  stories  never  failed  to  bring  a  thrill  of  satis- 
faction to  my  breast,  for  Alfred  is  my  old  chum,  and 
I  have  already  mentioned  in  here  my  reverence  for 
power. 

Jean  Everett  likes  Alfred  almost  as  much  as  I  do, 
and  reads  me  long  lectures  upon  the  idiocy  of  my 
course.  She  religiously  invites  him  out  to  her  house 
when  I  am  spending  the  week-end  there  and  makes 
me  dress  up  in  absurdly  coquettish  things,  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  he  has  possibly  seen  me  for  the  past 
seven  days  in  the  plainest  of  tailored  clothes. 


1 30  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

Jean  has  not  grown  up  to  be  a  beauty,  that  is,  not 
a  beauty  that  could  be  marked  off  by  rule,  but  she 
has  that  indefinable  something  about  her  exquisite 
get-up  which  makes  you  suspect  that  all  her  lin- 
gerie is  stitched  with  thread  number  120.  So  dainty 
is  she  in  her  pretty  blue  frocks  that  a  poetic  he-cozen 
of  hers  calls  her  a  Wedgwood  girl,  but  Guilford  calls 
her  his  twenty-two  carat  girl,  because  her  heart  is 
as  golden  as  her  hair. 

I  have  been  in  the  city  only  a  little  while — if  I 
take  the  calendar's  word  for  it;  but  it  has  seemed 
long  to  me,  for  the  season  of  the  year  is  that  when 
everything  is  very  dull.  All  the  people  who  have 
country  homes  are  reluctantly  bidding  them  good- 
by  and  the  signs  of  fall  cleaning  are  disfiguring  all 
the  city  homes.  The  theaters  are  publishing  long 
lists  of  attractions  which  are  coming  later  on,  but 
now  there  is  nothing. 

The  only  politicians  I  have  seen  I  have  met  acci- 
dentally up  at  the  Times  office — and  they  are  all  old, 
and  wear  long  frock  coats, — and  look  as  if  they 
chewed  tobacco. 

So,  as  I  promised  in  the  first  chapter  that  I  was 
not  going  to  bother  you  with  daily  details  and  ven- 
ison pasties,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  close  this  chap- 


ALFRED  131 

ter  without  recording  one  thing  of  interest.  I  can 
assure  you,  however,  that  you  do  not  regret  the  dull- 
ness of  it  half  so  much  as  I  do. 

But  hold!  Shall  I  forget  Neva?  Self -centered 
thing  that  I  am !  Because  the  last  three  weeks  have 
been  dreary  and  barren  to  me  shall  I  not  rejoice  in 
the  happiness  of  some  one  else? 

Among  the  other  unimportant  things  which  I  have 
done  since  coming  up  to  the  city  I  have  helped  Neva 
get  installed  in  a  boarding-school  for  young  ladies. 
An  expensive  place,  it  is,  where  for  a  certain  un- 
naturally large  sum  each  year  they  teach  you  to 
broaden  your  a's,  sharpen  your  eyes,  and  loath  your 
home  surroundings  for  ever  afterward. 

The  matter  had  been  under  discussion  for  some 
days  before  I  left  home,  and  I  set  forth  the  pros  and 
especially  the  cons  to  Mrs.  Sullivan.  But  the  hu- 
miliation of  the  fit  doctor's  visit  was  fresh  and  gall- 
ing; and  Neva's  boarding-school  experience  would 
more  than  turn  her  rival's  triumph  into  Dead  Sea 
fruit.  She  must  be  entered  as  a  student  at  the 
beautifully  named  college. 

They  came  up  together  a  week  before  time  for 
the  school  to  open,  Neva  and  her  mother,  so  that 
they  could  learn  their  way  about  the  city  a  little  and 


132  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

also  buy  Neva  some  new  music  and  a  supply  of 
winter  clothes. 

Now,  Neva's  songs,  while  new  and  silly,  are  sung 
in  her  buoyant  young  voice  with  so  much  gusto  on 
the  caressing  words  that  they  are  a  kind  of  actual 
music;  a  joyous  sort  of  wholesome  music,  like  the 
sound  of  the  postman's  whistle  on  a  sunshiny  morn- 
ing, when  you  know  that  he  is  bringing  you  a  love- 
letter!  There  goes  my  imagination  again,  for  I 
never  had  a  love-letter  in  my  life !  Not  even  a  post- 
card, and  it's  been  three  weeks.  Possibly  dignified 
people  do  not  write  post-cards!  Especially  guber- 
natorial timber! 

Now,  what  started  this  digression?  Oh,  yes, 
Neva's  silly  songs  which  she  bought  while  she  was 
up  here  those  few  days  before  school  commenced. 
I  started  out  to  say  that  they  did  not  seem  at  all 
silly  to  me  this  time.  I  actually  caught  myself  sing- 
ing them  over  and  over  again  and  found  consider- 
able beauty  in  one  that  was  a  plea  to  some  hard- 
hearted beloved  to  make  "ev'ry  dream  come  true." 

Yes,  I  was  delighted  with  Neva's  new  songs,  and 
Neva  was  delighted  with  everything  she  saw  in  the 
city:  with  the  pure  linen  shirt-waists  marked  down 
to  one  dollar ;  with  the  vast,  dim  cathedral  which  we 


ALFRED  133 

would  drop  into  to  enjoy  its  solemn  beauty  nearly 
every  time  we  were  near  it,  after  I  found  that 
Neva  responded  to  its  appeal ;  she  admired  the  Egyp- 
tian mummies  in  the  museum — the  terrified  delight 
of  my  early  years;  but  she  found  the  greatest  jo^ 
in  watching  the  fire-engines  at  work. 

Mrs.  Sullivan  remained  strictly  at  home  after  her 
first  day  of  tramping  the  city  streets,  which  she 
declared  "was  the  death  o'  her  feet,"  so  that  Neva's 
bubbling  accounts  of  the  sights  seen,  when  she  would 
return  to  their  hotel  at  night  and  try  to  cheer  her 
mother  up  with  her  lively  recitals,  were  by  no  means 
the  least  enjoyable  part  of  the  day's  program. 

"Oh,  mamma,  the  cathedral's  just  grand"  she  de- 
clared with  enthusiasm,  after  her  first  visit.  "I  told 
Miss  Ann  that  I  wished  papa  had  stayed  a  Catholic 
and  had  raised  me  that  way." 

Mrs.  Sullivan's  Baptist  eyebrows  flew  up  in  hor- 
ror, then  her  entire  face  settled  into  its  normal  look 
of  hopelessness. 

"Maybe  you  won't  be  so  glib  to  wish  it  at  the 
Great  Day  of  Judgment,"  she  said  warningly,  and 
the  capital  letters  I  have  used  were  all  in  her  voice. 

" — And  the  mummies !"  Neva  hastened  on,  seeing 
that  she  had  struck  the  wrong  key,  and  her  tones 


I34  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

were  as  light  and  frolicksome  as  her  mother's  were 
lugubrious.  "I  just  love  mummies!" 

Mrs.  Sullivan  still  refused  to  show  a  smiling  in- 
terest. 

"Well,  I  reckon  they're  all  right,  if  Miss  Ann  rec- 
ommends 'em,"  she  said  grudgingly,  but  with  a 
little  wonder  depicted  on  her  face ;  "still,  I  make  it 
a  rule  not  to  fill  my  stomach  too  full  of  strange  vit- 
tles!" 

"Oh,  mamma!  They  ain't  things  to  eat,"  Neva 
corrected,  struggling  between  her  shame  and  amuse- 
ment, then  she  launched  forth  into  a  brief  explana- 
tion of  embalming  "after  the  manner  of  the  Egyp- 
tians." 

At  the  word  "Egyptians"  quick  comprehension 
dawned  in  Mrs.  Sullivan's  disapproving  eyes.  Cer- 
tainly she  had  read  her  Bible. 

"Shucks!  Is  them  what  you're  talking  about? 
Well,  I  can  tell  you,  miss,  I  knew  all  about  mummies 
before  you  was  ever  borned !  But  you  talked  about 
'em  so  gushing  that  I  thought  of  course  they  was 
some  kind  o'  new-fangled  ice-cream." 

"When  I  said  that  I  loved  them  I  meant  that  they 
are  so  interesting,  you  know,"  Neva  said,  hoping  to 
mollify  her,  but  her  explanation  proved  a  poor  qual- 


ALFRED  135 

ity  of  oil  poured  upon  the  troubled  waters  of  ma- 
ternal understanding. 

"Them's  strange  things  for  a  girl  to  be  going  to 
see,"  she  commented  with  pointed  brevity.  " — Men, 
women  and  children  layin'  there  without  no  clo'es 
on — and  nobody  not  knowing  what  they  died  with !" 

But  the  fires !  I  don't  know  whether  there  was  an 
unusually;  large  number  of  such  calamities  during 
this  period  or  not,  but  I  had  never  had  my  attention 
so  attracted  to  them  before. 

We  happened  to  find  ourselves  almost  in  the  thick 
of  one  the  very  first  day  we  were  up  in  the  shopping- 
district,  and  the  excitement  so  appealed  to  Neva 
that  after  that  no  member  of  the  fire  department 
could  have  taken  a  more  lively  interest  in  the  clang 
of  the  bell  than  she  did. 

On  the  last  night  of  Mrs.  Sullivan's  stay,  when 
she  was  already  weeping  over  having  to  leave  her 
only  born,  there  was  such  a  sudden  and  close  clang 
of  the  alarm  as  would  furnish  Edgar  Allan  Poe  with 
inspiration  enough  for  four  more  stanzas  of  "bells, 
bells,  bells." 

Neva  listened,  counted  the  strokes,  then  scrambled 
around  distractedly  for  the  alarm  card.  The  fire 
might  be  near  enough  for  her  to  see ! 


136  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

"Well,  Nevar,"  her  mother  said,  wiping  her  eyes 
and  looking  at  her  motions  with  reproach,  "it  is 
poorly  worth  while  trying  to  educate  you!  You've 
been  here  a  whole  week  and  ain't  learned  the  fire- 
alarm  card  yet!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT 

A, FRED  MORGAN  is  one  of  those  men  whose 
backbone  is  built  out  of  seasoned  hickory. 

I  wish  some  of  the  poets  would  start  the  fashion 
of  writing  epics  about  the  hero  who  goes  through 
college  without  getting  any  money  from  home.  To 
me  he  seems  vastly  greater  than  he  who  taketh  a 
city. 

Alfred  did  this,  selling  his  pretty  saddle  mare  for 
money  enough  to  start  in  on,  then  borrowing  some 
from  the  banks  and  winning  scholarships  the  rest  of 
the  way.  Incidentally,  he  has  a  very  handsome  chin. 

Now  there  are  two  things  that  are  an  abomination 
to  me,  yea  three — white  eyelashes,  a  receding  chin, 
and  negro  dialect  written  by  a  northern  writer.  The 
white  eyelashes  I  admit  are  a  misfortune,  not  a 
fault;  the  receding  chin — well,  I  have  wondered  if 
that  defect  might  be  remedied  by  a  little  crinoline 
infused  into  the  character,  for  without  a  doubt  it  is 

137 


138  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

a  visible  sign  of  a  weakness  that  will  sooner  or  later 
become  visible.  The  negro  dialect  allusion  has  no 
business  here,  but  I  had  written  it  down  once  in  a 
note-book  in  a  list  of  my  pet  abominations,  and  I 
wanted  to  work  it  in  somewhere,  so  this  seemed  as 
good  a  place  as  any.  However,  the  question  of  chin 
is  the  only  one  with  which  we  have  to  deal  to-night. 

As  I  have  above  intimated,  Alfred  is  dark-lashed 
and  well-chinned,  else  we  could  never  have  been  the 
friends  that  we  are.  That  we  are  good  friends  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  whenever  I  want  to  go  any- 
where with  him  I  ask  him  to  take  me  along,  and  if 
there  is  any  reason  why  I  should  not  go,  all  he  ever 
says  by  way  of  explanation  is  a  brief,  "No,  I  can't 
be  bothered  with  you  to-day,  my  dear." 

It  happened  pretty  much  after  that  fashion  yester- 
day afternoon,  when  I  had  lunched  with  Ann  Lis- 
beth  and  he  had  mentioned  that  he  had  a  long  coun- 
try drive  to  take.  The  sun  was  shining  alluringly, 
and  I  had  been  feeling  very  dull. 

"I  believe  I'll  go  with  you,"  I  volunteered,  as  we 
congregated  around  him  at  the  front  door  and  he 
began  looking  about  for  his  black  leather  bag. 

"I  wish  I  could  take  you,  for  it's  a  beautiful 
drive,"  he  responded,  looking  down  at  me  with  a 


ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT   139 

smile  in  his  brown  eyes,  "but  I  couldn't  be  sure  of 
getting  you  home  before  very  late." 

"Is  the  trip  such  a  long  one?" 

"No;  but  I  have  some  urgent  business  in  the  city 
afterward.  I've  brought  suit  for  a  medical  bill,  and 
am  expecting  at  any  moment  to  be  summoned  to  the 
magistrate's  court." 

"How  exciting!  But  I  could  come  home  on  the 
car  if  you  are  detained  very  late." 

"How  disgusting  rather!"  he  answered,  ignoring 
the  suggestion  of  mine  about  the  street-car,  but  I 
saw  him  pick  up  a  lap-robe  lying  near  and  brush  a 
little  dust  from  it.  This  was  a  sign  that  he  expected 
me  to  go,  for  he  scorns  the  comforts  of  a  lap- robe 
for  himself,  even  on  the  coldest  days. 

"It's  hateful  business,"  he  continued,  dropping  the 
robe  and  searching  around  for  the  little  broom  which 
Ann  Lisbeth  keeps  tied  to  the  hat-rack,  for  both  her 
doctors  consider  that  cleanliness  is  godliness.  "There 
will  be  a  pack  of  lies  sworn  to  in  heathen  jargon  and 
hours  wasted  trying  to  make  the  scoundrels  come  to 
terms." 

"Heathen?    Literally  or  figuratively?" 

"Both.  The  man  who  owes  the  money  is  that 
Hindoo  I  operated  on  last  year  for  appendicitis,  but 


I4o  AT    THE    AGE    OF   EVE 

the  circus  he  travels  with  is  really  responsible  for  the 
debt;  so  I'm  going  to  attach  a  few  of  their  lions 
and  tigers  and  snake-charmers  to  make  them  settle 
up  while  they're  in  town  this  time." 

"Why,  Alfred!  I  don't  know  of  anything  this  side 
of  African  jungles  so  thrilling.  I  believe  I'll  go 
with  you  anyway,  even  if  I  have  to  walk  back.  If 
the  circus  men  should  decide  to  pay  you  in  lions  in- 
stead of  money  you  might  need  me  to  help  herd 
them  home." 

He  smiled  as  I  reached  for  my  hat. 

"There's  something  in  that,"  he  said,  "for  they 
would  willingly  follow  you"  Then,  coming  a  step 
nearer  so  that  he  could  not  be  heard  by  Ann  Lisbeth, 
who  stood  near  by,  he  kept  on,  "I  would  trust  you  to 
charm  anything  that  has  eyes." 

The  telephone  rang  just  as  he  spoke,  and  Ann  Lis- 
beth went  to  answer  it.  I  was  surprised  at  the  tone 
of  his  voice,  for  Alfred  very  rarely  pays  me  compli- 
ments, and  never  one  anything  like  this  before.  I 
was  surprised  still  more  at  myself  as  I  caught  at 
this  opportunity  for  a  sincere,  masculine  compli- 
ment. 

"Alfred,"  I  said  quickly,  half  afraid  that  Ann  Lis- 
beth would  come  back  before  I  could  make  him  sav 


ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT   141 

what  I  longed  to  hear,  "Alfred,  do  you  think  I'm 
good-looking?" 

I  had  the  grace  to  blush  as  I  said  it,  but  the  blush 
was  not  for  Alfred.  I  felt  that  he  knew  the  real 
question  in  my  mind  was,  "Do  you  suppose  Richard 
Chalmers  thought  I  was  good-looking  that  day  we 
sat  on  the  old  stone  wall  by  the  orchard  gate?" 

But  Alfred  was  simple  and  sincere  always,  and  he 
saw  in  my  question  only  the  query  any  vain  girl 
might  put  to  a  close  friend.  And  into  his  eyes  darted 
a  quick  look  of  pain  and  confusion.  I  wondered  if 
my  vanity  lowered  his  ideal  of  me. 

"You  evidently  have  no  knowledge  of  what  I  do 
think  of  you — else  you  wouldn't  ask  such  a  silly 
question,"  he  answered  gravely. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  if — if  I  have  offended  you  by 
my  foolish  talk,  but  I  was  only  trying  to  make  you 
say  something  pretty  to  me — you  never  do,  you 
know."  I  was  genuinely  confused,  myself,  now. 

"I  thought  'pretty  things'  were  unnecessary  be- 
tween you  and  me,  Ann,"  he  answered  again,  more 
gravely  still. 

"Every  woman  likes  them,"  I  said,  trying  to  re- 
lieve the  tension  by  my  tone  of  lightness. 

"Then  I  can  gratify  you — if  that's  what  you  want. 


142  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

I  think — that  is,  to  me  you  are  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  the  world !" 

I  was  so  stunned  at  his  unexpected  reply  and  the 
entirely  new  look  on  his  face  as  he  made  it  that  I 
should  have  betrayed  the  thoughts  which  came  surg- 
ing to  my  mind  if  Ann  Lisbeth  had  not  rejoined  us 
then  with  a  commonplace  remark  about  my  taking  a 
heavy  coat  along  with  me  if  I  decided  to  go  with  Al- 
fred. 

"You're  going,  aren't  you?"  he  asked  casually,  as 
if  the  matter  were  of  no  moment  with  him,  but  I 
saw  how  he  reached  for  my  coat  as  I  nodded  my 
head,  and  he  bade  Ann  Lisbeth  not  to  take  up  so 
much  of  his  valuable  time  as  she  fussed  a  little  over 
the  careless  way  I  fixed  my  veil,  and  insisted  on  my 
letting  her  pin  it  on  properly. 

The  woods  were  beautiful,  but  I  saw  their  beauty 
only  in  a  vague,  fantastic  way.  My  thoughts  were 
in  a  sad  tumult,  partly  on  my  own  account,  partly  on 
Alfred's,  for  I  felt  that  his  strange  words  spoken  at 
the  hall  door  would  be  followed  up  by  something 
far  more  manifest. 

I  knew  him  so  well  that  there  was  no  need  for 
me  to  agitate  my  mind  over  whether  his  words 
and  looks  meant  anything,  as  I  had  done  in  the 


ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT   143 

case  of  Richard  Chalmers  that  day  in  the  orchard 
when  he  had  said  "pretty  things."  Ah,  he  had  said 
them  so  prettily ! 

How  could  I  let  Alfred  know,  without  wounding 
him  and  spoiling  our  comradeship  ?  Or  would  it  be 
better  not  to  let  him  know?  To  ignore  his  words 
and  avoid  such  dangerous  ground  in  the  future — 
until  he  had  forgotten  them  himself.  Even  the 
strongest,  staunchest  lovers  cease  to  love  after  a 
while,  when  there  is  nothing  for  the  flame  to  feed 
upon,  I  argued,  and  I  set  about  steering  away  from 
any  reference  that  might  lead  back  to  the  perilous 
line  of  talk  which  had  been  so  mercifully  inter- 
rupted. 

I  espied  a  redbird — belated  little  wanderer — sit- 
ting on  the  fence  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  I  be- 
gan telling  Alfred  of  Mammy  Lou's  superstitions 
concerning  redbirds  and  other  little  creatures  too 
happy  and  bright  to  have  even  a  tinge  of  superstition 
attached  to  them.  But  as  I  laughed  at  the  notion  I 
made  a  wish,  and  saw  with  joy  that  the  bird  flew 
away  out  of  view. 

There  is  a  queer  admixture  of  the  fatalist  in  my 
make-up  and,  as  the  redbird  flew  away,  carrying  my 
wish  with  him.  I  had  a  feeling  that  that  wish  would 


144  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

come  to  pass.  It  was  a  very  simple,  fervid,  all-em- 
bracing affair — that  I  should  see  Richard  Chalmers 
again  very  soon — and  that  he  should  love  me. 

The  first  time  I  had  looked  at  that  man's  face  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  turned  a  leaf  in  the  book  of  my  des- 
tiny. When  Rufe  mentioned  his  name  to  me  and  I 
later  learned  that  he  was  the  same  man  whose  face 
had  formed  the  centerpiece  of  all  my  mental  pictures, 
I  fancied  that  Fate  was  about  to  keep  her  promise ; 
and  when  he  had  lingered  over  saying  good-by  that 
night  at  home  I  felt  as  if  my  fancies  might  have  a 
chance  of  coming  true. 

Then  I  had  come  up  to  the  city  and  stayed  for 
days  and  days,  without  hearing  one  word  from  him. 
This  humiliated  me  until  I  was  angry  with  myself 
for  having  ever  given  him  a  thought.  I  am  of  a 
proud  nature  which  would  demand  far  more  of  a 
man  than  he  should  ever  see  that  I  gave. 

I  was  certainly  not  in  love  with  Richard  Chalmers 
as  I  drove  with  Alfred  out  that  country  road,  but 
I  was  intensely  fascinated,  so  much  so  that  my 
thoughts  flew  to  him  with  the  flight  of  the  redbird, 
and  for  a  while  I  forgot  that  I  was  neglecting  my 
task  of  keeping  Alfred's  mind  diverted. 

From  the  country   we  drove   back  to    Alfred's 


ALFRED   COLLECTS   A    DEBT,       145 

office  and  I  stayed  in  the  reception-room  and  looked 
at  magazines  while  he  was  busy  with  some  patients 
in  his  private  office.  It  was  getting  well  toward 
evening  and  the  stenographer  was  beginning  to  ar- 
range her  desk  in  readiness  to  leave  when  Alfred 
came  into  the  room  and  began  to  fume  about  the 
delay  in  being  summoned  to  court.  He  suggested 
that  I  telephone  Cousin  Eunice  that  I  would  be  late, 
which  I  did,  but  I  found  that  my  absence  was  going 
to  make  small  difference  to  them,  as  she  and  Rufe 
were  going  out  to  a  lecture,  and  I  should  be  thrown 
on  the  society  of  Waterloo  for  the  evening. 

"Make  Alfred  take  you  on  to  Ann  Lisbeth's,  and 
Rufe  and  I  will  come  by  for  you  after  the  lecture," 
she  suggested,  which  was  an  easy  solution  and  would 
not  cause  Alfred  to  feel  that  he  must  hurry  on  my 
account. 

He  smiled  when  I  told  him  of  this  arrangement. 

"So  you  are  going  to  be  left  entirely  to  me  this 
one  evening,  it  seems,"  he  said.  "The  Gordons  are 
dining  out  and  bade  me  satisfy  my  hunger  before  I 
came  home.  I  propose  that  we  go  on  up  to  Beaure- 
gard's  now  and  have  dinner,  then  I'll  take  you  home 
and  let  you  tell  tales  to  Waterloo  until  he  goes  to 
sleep." 


146  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

"I'm  not  dressed  to  go  to  Beauregard's,"  I  began, 
looking  down  sadly  at  my  tailored  clothes  and  linen 
blouse.  I  was  very  hungry,  and  Beauregard's  is  a 
delicious  place.  But  my  longings  were  cut  short  by 
a  ring  at  the  telephone,  and  I  knew  from  the  answers 
he  made  that  Alfred  was  at  last  summoned  to  the 
magistrate's  court. 

"Jump  in  and  go  with  me,"  he  directed,  as  he  be- 
gan giving  the  colored  boy  and  stenographer  di- 
rections for  closing  up  the  office.  "Likely  I  sha'n't 
be  long;  and  we'll  go  to  dinner  as  soon  as  they  get 
through  with  me." 

We  drove  to  the  magistrate's  court  and  I  sat  in 
the  car  and  waited  for  him.  I  waited  while  the 
darkness  came  on  and  the  street  lights  flared  up; 
I  waited  while  everybody  else  was  crowding  into  the 
homeward-bound  electric  cars — and  I  was  still  wait- 
ing long  after  the  throngs  had  thinned  out  and  the 
cars  were  carrying  their  scant  loads,  which  means 
that  all  the  world  is  at  its  evening  meal. 

Finally  he  came  out,  looking  tired  and  disgusted, 
but  he  told  me  that  the  case  had  been  adjusted  satis- 
factorily to  him,  although  the  final  settlement  was 
not  to  be  made  until  after  the  circus  performance 
that  night,  when  the  business  manager  of  the  mighty 


ALFRED    COLLECTS    A    DEBT       147 

show  could  be  freed  from  his  duties  and  so  present 
himself  at  the  pleasant  little  affair. 

"The  mischief  of  it  is  that  my  lawyer  and  I  have 
to  go  out  to  the  show  grounds  and  keep  an  eye  on 
the  manager,"  he  explained,  with  a  slightly  worried 
look. 

"And  don't  you  know  what  to  do  with  me  ?" 

"Exactly !  It's  too  late  to  send  you  home  in  a  cab 
by  yourself,  and  I  can't  go  and  take  you  now.  What 
shall  I  do  with  you?" 

"Why,  take  me  to  the  circus." 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  then  looked  at  his 
watch  and  hesitated.  "I  hate  to,"  he  said,  "but  I 
don't  see  anything  else  to  be  done."  So  we  started 
off  again. 

Fortunately  the  performance  was  nearly  over 
when  we  got  there,  for  it  was  the  last  night  and 
everything  was  cut  delightfully  short,  so  I  decided 
that  I  would  rather  stay  out  in  the  machine  for  that 
length  of  time,  and  watch  the  crowds  swarm  out  to 
the  street-cars  than  to  be  mixed  up  more  closely 
with  them. 

Alfred  drove  up  under  a  big  arc-light  and  halted 
at  the  end  of  a  long  string  of  automobiles  and  car- 
riages. 


i48  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"You'll  not  be  afraid  here — and  I'll  be  back  as 
soon  as  I  can,"  he  said  as  he  left  me. 

I  pulled  the  rug  up  over  me  and  reached  back  for 
a  magazine  I  had  brought,  but  the  unsteady  light  on 
the  printed  pages  soon  caused  my  eyes  to  hurt,  so  I 
laid  the  book  down  again  and  gave  myself  up  to  the 
misery  of  just  plain  waiting. 

After  what  seemed  hours  to  me  Alfred  sent  a  little 
negro  boy  to  the  car  with  the  message  that  I  was  to 
empty  out  his  largest  instrument  case  and  send  it  to 
him. 

"Maybe  they  have  compromised  on  part  money 
and  a  few  baby  lions,"  I  mused,  as  I  leaned  back 
and  gave  myself  up  to  another  period  of  waiting. 

I  once  heard  Ann  Lisbeth  say  that  the  only  med- 
ical attention  a  doctor's  wife  ever  gets  is  a  sample 
bottle  of  iron  tonic  hastily  handed  her  from  a  desk 
drawer  once  in  a  while,  if  she  happens  to  be  sitting 
near  by  and  looking  pale.  I  should  not  object  to  this, 
being  healthy  and  seldom  needing  an  iron  tonic,  but 
I  do  think  the  long  waiting  spells  which  any  one  who 
goes  out  with  a  doctor  has  to  be  subjected  to  would 
eventually  make  a  woman  so  nervous  that  she  would 
have  to  have  some  kind  of  tonic.  I  have  registered 
a  vow  that  hereafter,  even  if  I  start  out  somewhere 


ALFRED    COLLECTS   A    DEBT       149 

with  Alfred  in  August,  I  shall  take  my  furs  along, 
not  knowing  but  that  it  will  be  winter  when  I  get 
back. 

He  finally  came,  however,  and  in  looking  at  him  I 
forgot  the  tediousness  of  my  long  wait.  His  eyes 
were  flashing  and  his  face  was  flushed.  He  looked 
very  angry — and  very  handsome.  Evidently  he  had 
not  been  suffering  from  cold  as  I  had. 

He  had  on  his  long  overcoat,  which  seemed  al- 
most to  drag  him  down,  big  as  he  is,  with  its  weight ; 
and  the  pockets  were  bulging  dropsically — if  there 
is  such  a  word.  His  instrument  case  he  deposited  in 
the  car,,  right  in  the  way  of  my  feet,  but  when  I 
tried  to  move  it  I  found  that  it  would  not  budge. 

"Are  you  tired  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  began  to  crank 
the  car. 

"I'm  tired  and  cold — and  hungry." 

"All  of  which  will  soon  be  remedied,"  and  he 
smiled  as  he  looked  at  me.  "Ann,  you  never  saw  a 
man  in  my  condition  before  in  your  life." 

"What?" 

He  had  a  hard  time  working  his  way  into  trie  car 
with  those  bulging  pockets,  but  he  finally  got  fixed 
satisfactorily,  then  he  moved  the  heavy  instrument 
case ;  and  I  gave  my  feet  several  relieved  shakes. 


150  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

"Very  likely  for  the  first  time  in  your  young  life 
you  behold  a  man  who  has  more  money  than  he 
knows  what  to  do  with !" 

"Money!"  I  edged  away  respectfully  to  give  the 
pockets  more  room.  "Is  it  money  ?" 

"Every  pound  of  it  is  coin  of  the  realm,"  he  an- 
swered. "It  is  nickels." 

"Alfred!" 

"Those  low-down  scoundrels  paid  me  in  nickels." 
And  his  eyes  began  to  flash  again. 

"What  on  earth  for  ?" 

"For  pure  cussedness !" 

"And  you  had  to  count  them  all !"  No  wonder  he 
Had  been  gone  a  long  time. 

"I  sat  there  like  a  fool  and  counted  the  instru- 
ment case  full;  then  I  dumped  the  rest  into  my 
pockets.  The  lawyer  is  sitting  in  front  of  his  little 
pile  now,  counting  it ;  and  there  is  a  small  bag  full 
to  be  sent  to  the  magistrate  to-morrow." 

"\Vhy,  it's  like  a  dream,  isn't  it?  I  never  heard 
of  so  much  money." 

"And  I  never  believed  before  that  surgeons  charge 
too  much  for  their  services — but  now — " 

We  laughed  all  the  way  back  to  town ;  we  drove 
up  to  Beauregard's  laughing;  we  laughed  as  Alfred 


ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT   151 

slipped  off  his  coat  and  the  solemn  waiter  looked 
startled  at  the  heaviness  of  the  garment.  Then  we 
looked  around  leisurely  to  select  a  table,  for  it  was 
late  and  the  diners  were  few. 

"Let's  go  into  the  booth,"  I  suggested,  nodding 
toward  ,a  small  mahogany  partition  at  one  side  and 
near  the  front  of  the  restaurant.  This  compartment 
was  built  with  some  other  purpose  in  view  than  act- 
ing as  a  private  dining-room,  for  the  open  doorway 
is  unscreened  in  any  way,  and  the  partition  itself  is 
only  about  seven  feet  high.  I  set  down  these  unin- 
teresting figures  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  a  well- 
brought-up  young  person  and  don't  go  into  private 
dining-rooms  unchaperoned — nor  should  I  have  been 
here  at  all  with  any  one  but  Alfred. 

I  had  learned  the  comforts  of  this  mahogany 
screen  from  having  come  here  often  with  Cousin 
Eunice  and  Waterloo.  We  always  make  a  bee-line 
for  its  shelter  when  we  have  him  with  us,  for  he 
fills  his  mouth  so  full  that  his  mother  always  has 
to  make  him  stop  and  unload.  This  is  less  embar- 
rassing when  there  is  a  partition  between  her  and 
the  public. 

The  place  happened  to  be  unoccupied  when  we 
came  into  the  restaurant  that  night,  and  Alfred  and 


152  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

I  sat  down  with  a  sigh  of  mingled  exhaustion  and 
content.  He  began  a  lavish  and  extensive  order 
which  I  curtailed  materially  on  account  of  the  late- 
ness of  the  hour. 

"We  can't  spend  all  our  nickels  to-night,"  I  said, 
reprovingly ;  and  we  laughed  a  little  over  the  nickels, 
at  intervals,  all  through  the  meal. 

Then  we  talked,  or  at  least,  I  talked,  which  is 
usually  the  case  when  Alfred  and  I  are  together.  I 
asked  him  questions  about  the  circus  people  and  the 
curious  sights  he  had  seen  in  the  tent  which  was  not 
open  to  the  public.  And  he  told  me  about  the  hide- 
ous Cossacks  standing  guard  over  their  high-pom- 
melled saddles,  as  the  hurried  process  of  packing 
went  on,  the  long-haired  ranchmen,  who  were  ten- 
derly laying  away  their  guns;  and  the  Hindoo 
woman  who  sat  and  glared  at  him  as  he  handled  the 
nickels  which  would  mean  months  of  a  lessened 
salary  for  her  and  her  husband. 

"Think  of  the  balloons  and  pop-corn  and  red 
lemonade  those  nickels  represent,"  I  said,  still  on 
the  subject  of  the  circus,  as  we  finished  our  meal  and 
left  the  table. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  good  dinner,  the  soft 
lights,  with  their  soothing  shades  on  the  table,  and 


ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT   153 

the  warm  air  of  the  comfortable  room  after  my 
long  wait  in  the  autumn  cold,  I  was  beginning  to  feel 
deliciously  sleepy,  and  was  thinking  with  pleasure 
in  how  short  a  time  Alfred  could  make  the  distance 
home,  now  that  the  streets  were  not  crowded — when 
we  left  the  booth  and  I  looked  around  at  the  people 
occupying  the  other  tables.  I  looked  at  them  indif- 
ferently, as  I  waited  for  Alfred  to  put  on  his  over- 
coat, my  eyes  traveling  slowly  around  the  room, 
until  they  stopped  at  a  table  close  in  front  of  where 
I  was  standing. 

Just  outside  the  partition  and  sitting  so  squarely 
facing  it  that  I  dropped  one  of  my  long  gloves  in 
my  startled  surprise  when  I  saw  him,  was  Richard 
Chalmers,  smoking  a  fragrant  cigar,  from  which  he 
had  stripped  a  dainty  red-and-gold  band,  which  was 
lying  upon  the  newspaper  he  had  spread  out  in 
front  of  him. 

But  he  was  not  reading,  and  I  imagined  from  his 
look  that  he  had  not  been  reading  for  some  time,  for 
he  was  looking  straight  at  me  with  the  same  half- 
amused  smile  he  had  worn  when  he  had  sat  on  the 
old  stone  wall  that  day  and  told  me  that  there  was 
a  vast  difference  in  our  ages.  It  seemed  that  he  was 
quietly  waiting  for  me  to  look  at  him,  and,  as  our 


154  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

eyes  met,  he  rose  at  once,  and  came  over  and  shook 
hands  with  me. 

"I  was  waiting  for  you  to  come  out,  Miss  Field- 
ing," he  said,  after  I  had  introduced  the  two  men 
and  they  had  reached  simultaneously  for  my  glove, 
which  Alfred  got  to  first — then  Mr.  Chalmers  be- 
gan to  fold  the  paper  he  had  not  been  reading,  and 
made  preparations  to  leave  the  place  as  we  did.  "I 
happened  to  drop  in  here  a  little  while  ago,  and, 
fortunately,  chose  this  table.  Then  I  heard  your 
voice — I  felt  sure  that  it  was  you — so  I  waited  to 
see." 

Alfred  excused  himself  a  moment  and  crossed 
the  room  to  speak  to  a  white-haired  old  gentleman 
at  one  of  the  tables.  I  recognized  this  old  man  as  a 
well-known  back  number  in  the  medical  profession 
of  the  city,  and  had  heard  Doctor  Gordon  say  that 
he  was  pitiably  grateful  for  any  attention  which  the 
younger  fellows  showed  him.  Alfred  spoke  a  few 
words  of  congratulation  on  a  recent  address  the  old 
doctor  had  made  at  a  medical  meeting,  they  both 
laughed  over  a  half-whispered  joke,  then  Alfred 
turned  to  leave.  An  appealing  hand  was  laid  on 
his  coat  sleeve,  as  he  allowed  himself  to  be  cornered 
by  the  old  man,  and  a  harangue  ensued,  carried  on 


ALFRED  COLLECTS  A  DEBT   155 

in  a  quavering,  high-pitched  voice,  with  now  and 
then  a  deep-toned  word  from  Alfred. 

I  stood  and  waited  for  him  and  Richard  Chal- 
mers came  closer  to  me  as  I  glanced  over  into  one 
of  the  mirrors  on  the  wall  and  began  to  tie  the  big 
veil  around  my  hat  again,  and  to  pull  up  my  coat- 
collar  a  bit  closer,  preparatory  to  going  out  into  the 
chilly  air. 

He  dropped  his  voice  and  began  to  talk  as  rapidly 
as  his  lazy,  southern  drawl  would  let  him.  He 
seemed  to  have  a  good  deal  to  say  and  he  wished  to 
say  it  all.  I  was  in  an  agony  of  fear  that  the  old 
doctor's  harangue  might  not  last  long  enough. 

"Yes,  the  next  week  after  seeing  you  I  went  East 
and  returned  only  this  morning,"  Richard's  voice 
was  saying,  and,  while  the  words  made  all  the  dif- 
ference in  the  world  to  me,  still  I  heard  them  only 
indistinctly.  All  I  could  take  in  was  the  fact  that  I 
was  hearing  his  voice  again. 

"I  reached  the  city  this  morning,  and  telephoned 
Clayborne  about  noon  to  ask  him  where  you  were. 
You  remember  you  told  me  that  you  were  booked 
to  come  home  with  them?  I  was  very  glad  indeed 
when  he  said  that  you  were  at  his  house,  and  I 
should  have  gone  out  to  see  Mrs.  Clayborne  to-night 


156  AT,  THE'  AGE  OF   EVE 

— I  wanted  to  tell  her  about  my  mother  and  sister 
coming  up  to  town  next  week  for  some  shopping. 
They  live  in  Charlotteville — eastern  end  of  the  state, 
you  know — but  Clayborne  said  that  there  was  a  lec- 
ture or  something  on  for  to-night.  He  thought  you 
would  all  likely  be  at  home  to-morrow  evening." 

"Yes — I  think  so.  We  shall  be  very  glad  to  see 
you." 

"It  was  the  merest  chance  that  I  dropped  in  here 
and  heard  you  talking — I  understood  that  something 
very  amusing  had  happened  at  a  circus." 

"Yes,"  I  said  weakly. 

"So  I  stayed  to  listen.  You  will  forgive  me — for 
I  knew  that  it  was  your  voice,  and" — with  a  won- 
derful smile — "you  see  I  am  very  fond  of  music." 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  SHOPPING  EXPEDITION 

RICHARD,  O  mon  roi"  I  carolled  this 
morning,  but  I  confess  that  I  carolled  it  as 
much  in  an  undertone  as  the  unfortunate  aristocrats 
had  to  employ  when  they  chose  to  give  vent  to  their 
feelings  by  singing  that  song  during  the  Reign  of 
Terror. 

I  was  up-stairs  in  my  own  room  at  Cousin  Eu- 
nice's, brushing,  shaking,  smoothing,  folding,  and 
now  and  then  mending  a  little  ripped  place  in  m^ 
clothes,  for,  during  the  last  four  weeks  I  have  done 
nothing  but  wear  them.  Early  in  the  morning,  all 
through  the  day,  and  late  at  night,  I  have  lived  to 
maltreat  those  clothes.  And  they  are  showing  signs 
of  being  weary  and  wounded. 

It  is  a  good  thing,  possibly,  that  mother  and 
Cousin  Eunice  would  not  let  me  have  the  black 
spangled  net  that  my  soul  yearned  for,  else  there 
would  not  have  been  a  spangle  left  to  tell  the  tale  by 
this  time. 

157 


i58  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

Cousin  Eunice  was  in  the  next  room  throughout 
the  time  I  was  thus  employed — that  is,  she  was  in 
and  out,  hence  the  undertone  in  my  singing. 

"Ann,"  she  finally  called  in  a  vexed  tone,  after  a 
period  of  silence,  "you'll  live  to  learn,  after  you're 
married,  that  a  man  and  his  poll-tax  receipt  are  soon 
parted." 

"It's  a  registration  certificate,"  I  amended  softly. 

"Well,  what  if  it  is?  It's  eternally  lost  when  they 
want  it." 

She  had  spent  the  morning  emptying  bureau 
drawers,  scratching  through  piles  of  old  papers,  peer- 
ing under  the  clock,  into  a  cracked  vase,  moving  the 
piano  and  searching  in  the  dusty  lint  beneath,  and 
dazzling  her  eyesight  by  a  scramble  through  a  five- 
years'  accumulation  of  pink  electric  light  bills — but 
no  sign  of  the  registration  certificate.  Toward 
luncheon  time  Rufe  called  her  up  and  said  he  hoped 
she  had  not  put  herself  to  any  trouble,  for  he  for- 
got to  tell  her  early  this  morning  that  he  had  al- 
ready found  the  missing  paper  in  his  pocket-book. 

"They  have  to  register  before  they  can  vote,  don't 
they?" 

I  knew  that  they  did,  but  I  was  in  a  mood  to  talk 
politics  this  morning. 


rA    SHOPPING    EXPEDITION         159 

"Yes.  This  is  just  a  measly  little  municipal  elec- 
tion, however." 

"Oh,  I  know  that  it  is  not  gubernatorial." 

"I  observe  that  you  have  improved  your  store  of 
knowledge  mightily — since  that  day  we  sat  under 
the  althea  hedge."  She  came  into  my  room  as  she 
spoke,  and  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Yes,  I  feel  that  I  know  all  about  the  state  of 
affairs  now." 

"Then  I  wish'  you  would  tell  me,  so  I  can  tell 
Rufe."  She  was  tired  out  from  her  strenuous  morn- 
ing, and  her  head  fell  over  among  the  pillows.  I 
laid  down  the  skirt  I  had  been  brushing  and  seated 
myself  on  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  I  asked.  "I  thought  the 
matter  was  very  simple." 

"You  thought  the  matter  was  simple,  you  dear  lit- 
tle goose,  because  our  favorite  piece  of  gubernatorial 
timber  has  showered  you  with  devoted  attentions 
this  past  month.  It  seems  that  he  has  declared  his 
intentions  toward  you — so  far  as  looks  and  acts  go 
— but  he  is  backward  about  his  political  doings." 

"Then  you  have  just  not  listened  to  what  he  has 
said,"  I  denied  stoutly,  the  spirit  of  the  game  strong 
within  me,  and  the  spirit  of  my  admiration  for  him 


160  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

much  stronger.  "Nobody  could  denounce  Appleton 
more  entirely  than  he  does!" 

"Oh,  Appleton !"  There  was  infinite  scorn  in  her 
tone.  "What  decent  person  doesn't  denounce  him?" 

"Then,  what's  the  trouble?"  I  asked  again.  "Ap- 
pleton stands  for  whisky;  we  stand  for  water — the 
affair  seems  quite  clear  to  me." 

"And  Jim  Blake  stands  for  whisky  and  water — 
with  a  goodly  dash  of  sugar.  He's  a  kind  of  toddy 
for  our  split  Democracy." 

"But  what  has  he  to  do  with  Richard  Chalmers?" 
I  asked,  an  uneasy  fear  clutching  at  my  gay  spirits. 

"That's  just  what  we  want  to  know — before  the 
Times  can  rally  to  the  support  of  Chalmers." 

"The  Times!"  I  was  genuinely  aroused  now. 
"Why,  I  thought  the  Times  had  virtually  made  Rich- 
ard Chalmers." 

"Well,  the  paper  has  boomed  him  because  he  has 
always  stood  for  the  right  principles  heretofore.  But 
there  is  a  grave  complication  about  to  set  in  now,  it 
seems.  Of  course  the  people  of  this  state  are  not 
going  to  stand  for  Appleton  again — we  are  not  Hot- 
tentots, and  either  a  strong  Democrat  must  come  out, 
and  stand  on  a  strong  platform,  else  we  are  going  to 
have  a  Republican  for  governor." 


A    SHOPPING    EXPEDITION         161 

"Well?" 

"Well,  the  law-abiding  faction  is  ready  to  support 
Richard  Chalmers,  so  long  as  he  does  not  compro- 
mise, but  at  the  first  evidence  of  weakening  on  his 
part — the  vote  goes  to  some  clean  Republican." 

"And  you  are  afraid  that  he  will  join  Blake — in 
some  way?" 

"In  a  very  clearly  defined  way.  Blake  is  the  most 
popular  man  in  the  state.  He  could  put  up  a  good 
fight  for  anything  he  wanted  here — and  he  could 
throw  his  influence  to  Chalmers." 

I  traced  the  pattern  of  the  counterpane  with  the 
end  of  the  clothes-brush  which  I  was  still  holding  in 
my  hand. 

"I  don't  know  a  thing  about  it,"  I  said  finally,  my 
tone  and  feelings  far  different  from  what  they  were 
but  a  few  minutes  before,  when  I  had  declared  con- 
fidently that  I  knew  all  about  it.  "He  has  never  once 
mentioned  politics  to  me  these  last  few  weeks." 

"Well,  I  dare  say  not,"  she  said,  straightening  up 
and  smoothing  back  her  hair.  "Imagine  a  man  talk- 
ing politics  before  Mrs.  Chalmers  and  Evelyn!  And 
they  have  been  with  you  every  minute  that  you  and 
he  have  been  together." 

It  was  true.     These  last  few  weeks  had  brought 


162  AT   THE   AGE  OF.   EVE 

about  a  delightful  state  of  closer  personal  contact 
between  Richard  Chalmers  and  me,  a  condition 
which  he  has  seemed  determined  to  make  stronger 
and  more  pronounced  by  every  means  in  his  power — 
and  he  has  the  most  charming  means — but  always 
under  the  supervision  of  his  mother  and  sister. 

Supervision?  Good  heavens,  what  an  absurd 
word  to  use  in  connection  with  either  one  of  those 
women  where  Richard  is  concerned,  for  they  are 
truly  as  much  slaves  to  him  as  if  he  had  chains 
around  their  wrists  and  ankles.  A  worshipping 
slave  is  his  mother,  while  Evelyn  is  so  timid  and 
fearful  in  his  presence  that  she  appears  to  be  much 
stupider  than  she  really  is,  which  is  stupid  enough, 
in  all  conscience ! 

When  I  first  discovered  this  mighty  reverence  in 
them  for  the  man  who  is  so  kingly  to  me  I  felt  that 
they  must  recognize  in  him  that  wonderful  regal  at- 
tribute, which  so  irresistibly  attracted  me.  But  I 
soon  learned,  for  we  were  together  constantly,  that 
Evelyn  fears  and  dislikes  him,  and  the  only  time 
during  those  weeks  of  companionship  that  she  dis- 
played the  slightest  eagerness  over  anything  was 
when  she  was  urging  me  to  accompany  them  on 
some  pleasure  party,  where,  unless  I  should  go  along 


A    SHOPPING    EXPEDITION         163 

with  them,  they  would  be  left  solely  to  the  compan- 
ionship of  her  august  brother. 

"He's  so  much  nicer  when  you're  around,"  she  ex- 
plained to  me  one  time  with  a  look  of  pleading  can- 
dor, when  she  was  insisting  that  I  go  to  dinner  with 
them  that  evening.  I  had  received  pressing  invita- 
tions from  the  three  members  of  the  family,  but  was 
hesitating  on  account  of  Mammy  Lou's  slogan. 

Evelyn  is  an  intensely  inane  girl,  but  not  bad  at 
heart,  and  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  she  was 
saying  the  wrong  thing.  Her  mother,  who  is  much 
more  acute,  came  forward  with  a  flurried  palliation 
for  Evelyn's  thoughtless  words.  Richard  is  so  dig- 
nified that  Evelyn  has  never  grown  to  know  him,  she 
explained,  with  what  impressed  me  as  undue  haste ; 
he  is  so  much  older  than  she,  and  has  been  away 
from  home  so  much  of  recent  years. 

"It  doesn't  make  me  think  any  less  of  him  to  know 
that  you  are  both  deadly  afraid  of  him,"  I  smiled  to 
myself  as  I  ran  up-stairs  to  change  my  dress.  "But 
I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  him." 

His  women  are  not  at  all  like  Richard,  even  in  so 
far  as  length,  breadth  and  thickness  go.  The  qual- 
ity in  him  which  results  in  simply  a  splendid  phy- 
sique, in  them  tends  toward  heaviness,  and  I  have 


1 64  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

heard  from  his  own  lips  that  he  "hates  dumpy 
women."  Yet  he  cares  extremely  for  the  handsome 
appearance  which  they  make  in  their  expensive 
clothes,  and  his  cold  dignity  finds  a  pleased  echo  in 
their  studied  correctness. 

Correct  they  both  are,  and  stylish  and  orthodox, 
church  and  clothes  being  the  alpha  and  omega  of 
their  conversation. 

They  are  conventionally  polite,  whereas  he  is 
always  superbly  courteous;  and  Mrs.  Chalmers  can 
invariably  be  depended  upon  to  do  and  say  exactly 
the  right  thing.  Evelyn  passes  muster  all  right,  be- 
cause she  never  does  or  says  anything. 

While  Richard's  mother  can  describe  to  the  turn- 
ing of  a  milliner's  fold  the  latest  foibles  of  fashion's 
fancy,  she  is  complacently  old-fashioned  in  her  no- 
tions about  other  things,  maintaining  the  faith  in 
which  she  was  brought  up,  namely,  that  all  children 
should  be  whipped  and  all  husbands  watched,  while 
women  should  say  their  prayers  regularly  and  see 
that  their  corsets  suit  their  figure.  She  quotes  the 
Bible  unendingly  and  is  so  morbidly  "proper"  and 
ladylike  that  I  am  sure  she  thinks,  if  she  ever 
thought  about  it  at  all,  that  being  burned  at  the 
stake  was  no  more  than  Joan  of  Arc  deserved  for 


A   SHOPPING   EXPEDITION         165 

being  so  immodest  as  to  ride  cross-saddle  before  all 
those  fast  and  loose  Frenchmen. 

It  fell  to  Cousin  Eunice's  lot  to  go  shopping  with 
Mrs.  Chalmers  and  Evelyn ;  and  to  the  hair-dressers, 
and  to  the  thousand  and  one  other  places  that  out- 
of-town  women  always  feel  that  they  must  visit 
when  they  are  in  a  city  for  a  little  while.  I  usually 
fight  shy  of  this  phase  of  getting  acquainted,  not  be- 
cause, as  you  may  think,  that  Richard  was  never 
along,  for  he  was  frequently ;  but  simply  because  I 
hate  shopping. 

One  morning,  only  a  little  while  before  they  were 
to  go  back  to  Charlotteville,  they  asked  Cousin  Eu- 
nice to  meet  them  in  the  city  as  they  had  some  rather 
important  purchases  to  make  and  desired  her  judg- 
ment on  the  matter.  Cousin  Eunice  has  known  Rich- 
ard's family  ever  since  he  shot  up  so  suddenly  on 
the  political  firmament,  and  she  had  shopped  with 
them  before,  so  she  fortified  herself  for  this  occasion 
by  putting  on  her  most  comfortable  shoes  and  ar- 
ranging her  hair  to  stand  the  strain  of  a  day's  long 
crusade  away  from  a  mirror. 

I  had  been  invited  to  lunch  with  Ann  Lisbeth  that 
day,  for  there  had  been  killed  a  fatted  calf  to  glorify 
Alfred's  birthday,  and  I  pleaded  this  engagement 


1 66  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

when  I  was  politely  urged  to  join,  at  least  for  a 
while,  the  shopping  expedition. 

"I  wish  you  would  come  on  in  and  see  that  coat 
I'm  worried  over,"  Evelyn  rather  insisted,  as  I  was 
about  to  make  my  adieus  at  the  entrance  of  one  of 
the  big  shops,  without  even  glancing  at  the  bewilder- 
ing array  of  new  fall  goods  displayed  in  the  win- 
dows. 

Clearly  Evelyn  considered  my  seeming  indiffer- 
ence to  fashionable  apparel  a  pose,  for  she  continued, 
looking  at  me  slightly  aggrieved :  "You  evidently 
mu'st  be  interested  in  your  own  clothes.  Richard 
said  last  night  that  you  were  a  feast  for  an  artist." 

My  face  turned  a  little  red,  but  I  meekly  followed 
them  on  into  the  place.  I  might  have  told  her  that, 
while  to  her  clothes  were  an  end,  to  me  they  were  a 
means — and  no  one  is  ever  deeply  interested  in  a 
mere  means.  Yet  when  the  end  is  such  a  speech  as 
that  from  such  a  man  as  that,  it  stands  one  in  hand 
to  take  a  little  interest  in  the  means.  This  brought 
about  the  frenzied  overhauling  of  raiment  which  I 
instituted  this  morning. 

Although  it  was  still  warm  weather,  the  autumn 
stock  of  furs  was  already  on  exhibition,  and  Eve- 
lyn's attention  had  been  particularly  attracted  by  a 


A    SHOPPING    EXPEDITION         167 

toat  of  short,  glossy,  and  very  expensive  fur.  One 
more  sight  of  the  attractive  garment  decided  her. 

"Well,  I'm  certainly  glad  you've  made  up  your 
mind,"  Mrs.  Chalmers  said,  as  she  opened  her  shop- 
ping-bag and  drew  out  her  check-book.  She  was 
busily  filling  out  the  blank  after  "Pay  to  the  order 
of"  when  she  suddenly  stopped  and  looked  up  at 
Evelyn. 

"I  wish  I  could  get  this  cashed  somewhere  else," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "for  Richard  will  criticize 
our  taste  unmercifully  when  he  learns  that  this 
amount  of  money  has  been  paid  for  that  coat.  He 
always  looks  over  my  returned  checks." 

"Oh,  we'll  just  tell  him  that  this  was  the  entire 
amount  of  our  shopping  bill  at  this  store,"  Evelyn 
answered  easily,  as  if  such  a  deception  might  be  an 
every-day  affair  with  them.  "If  he  asks  me  I'll  tell 
him  that  the  coat  cost  only  half  of  what  it  did." 

"That's  true,  we  can  do  that,"  Mrs.  Chalmers  said, 
looking  relieved  and  going  on  with  her  writing. 
"But  don't  you  forget  to  back  me  up  in  whatever  I 
tell  him." 

After  she  had  handed  the  check  to  the  gratified 
saleswoman  and  again  given  directions  about  a 
slight  alteration  in  the  set  of  the  collar  she  turned 


1 68  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

to  Cousin  Eunice  and  said  a  word  or  two  in  explana- 
tion. 

"Richard  is  such  a  critic,"  she  stated  rather  ab- 
sently, her  eyes  fixed  on  a  handsome  evening  wrap 
hanging  in  a  case  close  by ;  "when  he  knows  we  have 
paid  a  good  deal  for  our  clothes  it  seems  to  give  him 
real  pleasure  to  criticize  them.  He  says  Evelyn  and 
I  will  buy  anything  a  shop-girl  shows  us  if  she  will 
only  flatter  us  enough.  So  I  am  in  for  doing  any- 
thing that  will  keep  the  peace.  I  consider  it  one  of 
the  first  duties  of  a  Christian." 

Her  mouth  closed  primly  for  a  moment  after  her 
last  sentence,  but  opened  again  almost  immediately, 
for  her  eyes  were  still  fascinated  by  the  beauty  of 
the  delicate-colored  wrap. 

"Mrs.  Clayborne,  do  you  think  I  am  too  stout  for 
one  of  those  loose  cloaks?" 

I  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  group  and 
fingering  the  handle  of  my  shopping-bag  nervously. 
I  was  glad  that  my  opinion  of  the  evening  wrap  was 
not  asked,  for  I  should  have  given  a  random  answer. 
I  was  wondering  so  many  things  in  so  short  a  space 
of  time  that  my  brain  could  not  find  room  for  words 
just  then.  Of  all  the  different  kinds  of  lies  that  one 
meets  up  with  in  life  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  that 


A    SHOPPING    EXPEDITION         169 

the  lies  women  tell  about  the  cost  of  clothes  are  the 
lowest  class.  What  a  deplorable  lack  of  understand- 
ing must  exist  between  members  of  a  family  when 
such  lying  is  deemed  necessary !  I  imagined  mother 
or  me  trying  to  lie  to  father — about  the  cost  of 
clothes ! 

The  bewitching  evening  wrap  was  brought  forth 
from  its  case  and  Mrs.  Chalmers  and  Evelyn  trailed 
away  after  the  shop-woman  to  the  dressing-room. 
Cousin  Eunice  and  I  sat  down  to  wait  for  them. 
She  looked  at  her  watch,  stifled  a  yawn,  and  then 
turned  to  me  rather  hesitatingly. 

"I  wonder  if  our  friend,  Mr.  Chalmers,  is  a  do- 
mestic tyrant?"  she  said. 

I  started,  for  this  phase  of  the  matter  had  not  pre- 
sented itself  to  my  mind. 

"He  doesn't  seem  to  be,"  I  answered,  with  as 
much  nonchalance  as  I  could  muster.  "Of  course 
every  one  can  see  that  they  both  stand  in  awe  of  him ; 
but  I  thought  that  must  be  because  he  is  so  extraor- 
dinarily— clever." 

She  laughed,  then  she  looked  at  me  more  seriously. 

"If  it  were  only  his  cleverness  they  would  not 
be  hypocritical  with  him.  And  tyrants  do  breed 
hypocrites." 


1 70  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

"Not  unless  there  is  hypocritical  material — to  start 
out  with." 

"I — don't  know!  If  you  loved  a  tyrant,  and  de- 
sired above  everything  else  to  please  him,  it  might 
mean  the  ultimate  ruin  of  even  your  frank  char- 
acter." 

"I  couldn't  love  a  tyrant,"  I  argued. 

"You  might  not  recognize  the  tyrant  in  him — 
until  after  you  had  married  him,"  she  said. 

The  same  uneasy  feeling  that  again  came  over  me 
when  I  discussed  his  political  prospects  took  pos- 
session of  me  then,  and  I  started  to  ask  her  frankly 
what  she  had  in  mind,  when  Evelyn  came  up  and 
said  that  her  mother  wanted  Cousin  Eunice  to  come 
and  see  her  with  the  wrap  on.  So  she  passed  on 
back  to  the  dressing-room  to  help  decide  the  mo- 
mentous question,  while  Evelyn  and  I  sat  there  and 
discussed  the  good  points  of  the  coat  she  had  just 
bought. 

Ann  Lisbeth  was  sweet  and  wholesome  when  I 
met  her  an  hour  or  two  later — an  admirable  antidote 
to  the  disagreeable  feeling  I  had  brought  away  from 
the  shops. 


A    SHOPPING    EXPEDITION         171 

"Alfred  doesn't  know  you're  coming,"  she  said 
with  a  bright  smile,  "he'll  be  so  pleased!" 

As  is  usual  when  the  fatted  calf  is  killed  for  a 
medicine  man  he  takes  that  occasion  to  be  an  hour 
late — an  emergency  case  at  the  last  minute,  or  some 
one  at  the  office  that  it  took  an  unreasonable  time 
to  get  through  with.  I  hardly  heard  the  excuse 
which  Alfred  made  when  he  came  in,  but  I  knew  it 
was  true,  whatever  it  was,  and,  as  Doctor  Gordon  was 
not  going  to  be  able  to  come  at  all,  we  three  went  in 
and  gave  ourselves  up  to  the  joy  of  the  occasion. 

I  was  absently  eating  everything  that  was  brought 
to  me,  and  was  thinking  all  the  while  how  perfectly 
preposterous  it  was  that  Richard  Chalmers — a  man 
like  Richard  Chalmers — should  have  such  weak- 
minded  females  attached  to  him;  and  I  had  just 
reached  the  conclusion  that  there  could  never,  never 
be  anything  like  friendship  between  us,  no  matter 
what  there  might  be  as  an  occasion  for  friendship, 
when  the  dessert  was  brought  in,  and  with  it  a  great, 
beautiful  cake,  iced  in  forget-me-nots. 

"Now,  don't  you  think  I'm  sentimental?"  Ann 
Lisbeth  asked  with  a  smile,  after  we  had  used  up 
all  the  adjectives  that  we  had  at  our  command. 


i;2  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"You  see,  I  thought  maybe  Alfred's  next  birthday 
might  be  spent  in  London,  or  Vienna,  or  somewhere 
far  away — and  I  knew  that  I  was  going  to  have  you 
here  to-day,  Ann — so  I  told  the  woman  who  made 
the  cake  to  be  sure  and  use  forget-me-nots.  So 
when  he  thinks  of  us  on  his  next  birthday  he  will 
have  to  remember  how  much  we  all  love  him!" 

All  of  a  sudden  I  had  that  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  comes  in  my  throat  sometimes  when  I  don't 
want  it  to,  and  I  realized  that  if  something  did  not 
happen  to  divert  my  mind  I  should  certainly  cry. 
Ever  since  his  graduation  Alfred  had  been  trying  to 
devise  means  for  this  course  of  study  abroad,  and 
I  had  known  how  much  better  his  practice  had  been 
lately,  but  somehow,  I  had  not  thought  of  his  going 
so  far  away  so  soon.  Suppose  Mammy  Lou  should 
have  gall-stones  again ! 

I  wrestled  for  a  moment  with  that  awful  lump  in 
my  throat ;  then  I  spoke,  and  my  voice  was  natural 
again. 

"Is  this  sudden  'wanderlust'  the  outcome  of  col- 
lecting all  those  nickels  ?"  I  asked  with  a  laugh. 

After  we  left  the  table  Alfred  and  I  went  into  the 
library  for  a  while,  and  Ann  Lisbeth  stayed  in  the 
dining-room  to  keep  her  husband  company  while  he 


A   SHOPPING   EXPEDITION         173 

ate,  for  he  had  come  in  just  as  we  were  finishing, 
and  declared  that  he  was  starved. 

"Ann,  I  have  a  surprise  for  you,"  Alfred  said, 
springing  up  from  the  big  leather  chair  into  whose 
depths  he  had  lazily  thrown  himself  a  moment  be- 
fore. He  sometimes  took  a  short  nap  after  luncheon, 
when  he  had  been  out  all  the  night  before,  and  I  had 
picked  up  a  magazine  to  amuse  myself  with  in  case 
he  deserted  me  in  favor  of  his  siesta. 

"A  surprise?"  He  had  given  me  a  surprise  the 
last  time  I  spent  the  day  at  the  Gordons'. 

"A  bully  one.  I  found  it  down  home  the  other 
day — last  week  when  I  was  out  there — while  I  was 
rummaging  in  a  box  of  ancient  books  and  papers. 
Wait,  I'll  run  up-stairs  and  get  it." 

He  returned  almost  immediately  with  a  book  in 
his  hand,  a  ponderous  old  tome  it  was,  with  yellowed 
edges  and  time-stained  leather  covers,  but  I  saw  a 
name  on  the  back  which  sent  my  pulses  throbbing 
with  pleasure. 

"Moore's  Life  of  Byron,"  I  said,  reaching  out 
for  it  eagerly.  Alfred  had  known  that  I  wanted  the 

book  for  years,  and  whenever  he  had  been  in  a  big 

f 

city  for  any  length  of  time  he  had  always  searched 
about  for  it,  but  had  never  come  across  a  copy. 


174  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"It  isn't  Moore's  Life,"  he  said,  sitting  down  be- 
side me  on  the  couch,  "but  from  what  I  have  been 
able  to  gather,  by  glancing  through  it,  it  seems  to  be 
a  rather  more  intimate  affair  than  even  that.  Be- 
sides the  poems,  there  are  a  lot  of  letters  and  extracts 
from  his  journal;  the  entire  correspondence  for 
several  years  between  him  and  a  fellow  whom  he 
calls  his  'dear  Murray.'  Guess  you  know  who  his 
dear  Murray  is — I'm  sure  I  don't.  Then  there  are 
some  letters  to  the  Countess  G-u-i-c — ' 

"Oh,  Alfred!  Guiccioli!  I'm  so  glad  to  get  my 
hands  on  this  book.  You  are  a  darling  to  think 
about  bringing  it  up  for  me  to  read !" 

"Oh,  I  brought  it  up  for  you  to  keep.  It  belonged 
to  my  grandfather,  and  I  can  give  it  to  any  one  I 
want  to." 

I  laughed  a  little  at  his  simplicity. 

"But  surely  you  would  not  be  such  a  barbarian  as 
to  let  a  book  like  this  go  to  any  one  outside  of  your 
family.  Boy,  this  is  an  heirloom!  I  never  heard 
of  just  this  edition  before.  The  engravings  in  it  are 
wonderful.  It  is  a  very  valuable  book.  I  couldn't 
think  of  letting  you  give  it  to  me!" 

Ann  Lisbeth  had  come  into  the  room  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  as  she  saw  us  sitting  together  on  the 


A   SHOPPING   EXPEDITION         175 

leather  couch  and  absorbed  in  the  book,  she  had 
hastily  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  her. 

As  I  finished  speaking  Alfred  glanced  at  the 
closed  door  then  deliberately  reached  over  and 
caught  both  my  hands  as  they  fluttered  about  over 
the  leaves  of  the  boolc.  In  my  surprise  they  strug- 
gled a  moment,  but  he  held  them — he  has  such  big, 
warm,  capable  hands ;  no  wonder  people  are  trusting 
as  to  their  ability — and  thus  it  was,  with  our  heads 
bent  close  together  and  our  hands  pressing  down 
upon  the  passionate  poems  of  the  greatest  passion 
poet,  that  I  received  my  first  declaration  of  love. 

"Don't  you  know  that  there  is  nothing  in  tfie 
world  I  own  or  could  get  too  valuable  for  me  to  give 
to  you,  Ann?"  he  said,  in  low,  tense  tones  that  I 
had  never  heard  from  him  before.  "Surely  you 
know  what  you  are  to  me!  The  greatest  privilege 
I  could  ask  is  to  give  you  everything  I  have  or  shall 
have — a  life  of  devotion — a  heart,  darling,  that  has 
always  been  yours!  A  world  of  love!^-" 

He  came  closer  still,  and  in  another  moment  fie 
would  have  had  his  arms  around  me,  carried  away 
as  he  was  by  the  force  of  his  own  feelings,  but  I 
drew  back  and  he  was  arrested  by  the  look  on  my 
face.  His  own  went  white  with  sudden  misery. 


i;6  AT   THE   AGE   bF    EVE 

"Ann!  Surely  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  I 
am  already  too  late?" 

"Too  late?" 

"That  you  love  some  one  else !"   v 

His  face,  pale  and  drawn,  looked  strangely  unlike 
my  genial,  even-tempered  Alfred.  He  was  capable 
of  great  depth  of  feeling,  then — besides  being  so 
strong,  so  fine !  I  had  always  had  an  infinite  respect 
for  him,  and  admiration,  and  affection!  I  had 
known  that  the  strength  of  his  nature  had  been 
tested  and  found  there;  and  it  was  like  the  strength 
of  oak,  sturdy,  deep-rooted,  indomitable. 

"I  so  nearly  love  you,  Alfred,"  I  cried,  struggling 
between  the  pain  I  felt  at  his  hurt  and  the  bewilder- 
ment of  my  own  confused  feelings. 

For  the  face  of  Richard  Chalmers  was  between  us, 
and  his  face,  too,  spoke  strength.  Strength  of  steel, 
cold,  inflexible,  even  cruel,  perhaps — yet  holding 
such  a  potent  attraction. 

" — But  you  quite  love  some  one  else?"  His  voice 
was  calm,  although  his  face  was  even  whiter  than 
a  moment  before. 

"I  don't  know — I  only  know  that  I  am  oh,  so 
sorry  for  you — and  for  myself,  too!" 

He  was  still  holding  my  hands  in  his  strong  clasp, 


A   SHOPPING   EXPEDITION         177 

and  they  felt  so  wonderfully  at  home  there  that  I 
never  thought  to  move  them — if  I  had  never  known 
that  other  man  I  should  have  loved  him  so ! 

"Ann,  is  it  Chalmers?" 

The  question  was  frankly  put,  and  as  frankly  an- 
swered. 

"Yes. — But  there  is  nothing  yet — nothing  has 
been  said — still,  I  know — " 

"Ah,  I  was  afraid  of  that !  That  was  what  over- 
powered my  determination  not  to  speak  of  my  love 
until  I  came  back  from  Europe!  I  noticed  some- 
thing that  first  time  I  met  him — then  the  Gordons 
told  me  of  his  attentions  to  you." 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "But  he  has  never  told  me  that  he 
cares." 

"He  will.    And  I  congratulate  him." 

Alfred  arose,  as  he  spoke,  and  I  laid  my  hand  on 
his  arm. 

"This  is  not  going  to  make  any  difference  between 
us?"  I  asked  appealingly.  I  felt  that  I  could  not 
lose  my  friend. 

"Not  in  my  feeling  for  you,"  he  answered,  look- 
ing down  at  me  with  a  look  that  I  hated  to  see  in 
his  brown  eyes — they  usually  met  the  world  with 
such  a  level,  untroubled  glance.  "If  you  should  ever 


1 78  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

change,  or  ever  need  me — you  know  that  I  will  be 
there.  But,  dear,  it  will  be  painful  to  go  on  meeting 
you.  I'm  going  away  in  a  few  weeks,  perhaps,  but 
until  then—" 

"I  know.  I'll  stay  out  of  your  way,"  I  promised 
humbly. 

He  leaned  over  suddenly  and  caught  my  face  be- 
tween his  hands.  He  brushed  his  lips  lightly  against 
the  coils  of  my  hair. 

"Good-by,  darling,"  he  said.  Then  he  went  out 
softly  and  closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  X 

i 

ANN  RECEIVES  A  CALLER 

WHOOPEE,  what  a  pretty  pitcher!"  Water- 
loo cried  admiringly,  as  he  come  down  to 
breakfast  this  morning  with  the  belt  of  his  rompers 
still  unfastened  and  a  look  of  sleepiness  in  his  brown 
eyes. 

He  followed  his  mother  into  the  kitchen,  as  did  we 
all,  for  the  cook  was  late,  and  Rufe  was  anxious  to 
get  off  early. 

"Let  me  play  with  it.    I  won't  hurt  it." 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  the  appeal  in  his 
voice  or  the  wish  to  avoid  a  conflict,  which  always 
made  her  so  nervous  that  she  let  the  toast  burn, 
which  made  Cousin  Eunice  pick  the  object  under 
discussion  up  in  her  hand  and  silently  debate  a  min- 
ute. 

"Isn't  it  a  sign  of  the  times  when  a  child  of  his  age 
doesn't  know  a  coffee-pot  when  he  sees  one?"  Rufe 
asked,  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway  and  absorbed  lots 
of  space.  kWhen  Galileo,  or  whoever  it  was,  made 

179 


i8o  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

his  famous  remark  about  nobody  being  able  to  oc- 
cupy more  than  one  space  at  a  time  he  had  never 
seen  a  man  in  the  kitchen  before  breakfast. 

"I  think  it  speaks  well  for  his  up-bringing,"  he 
continued  (Rufe's  I  mean,  not  Galileo).  "It  shows 
how  entirely  we  are  on  the  water  wagon  here  at  this 
house." 

"Lemme  play  with  the  coffee-pot,"  Rufus,  junior, 
was  insisting,  dangerous  signs  appearing  around  the 
corner  of  his  mouth.  Cousin  Eunice,  who  is  ob- 
servant, noticed  these  signs.  It  always  gives  her  a 
spell  of  indigestion  for  him  to  have  a  crying  spell 
before  breakfast. 

"Now  listen,  son,"  she  said,  handing  the  vessel 
over  to  him  with  a  dubious  look,  "you  must  be  very 
careful  with  the  coffee-pot.  Father  went  up  himself 
yesterday  and  bought  it  for  mother,  because  we  are 
going  to  have  so  much  company  this  afternoon  that 
the  other  pot  won't  hold  enough.  So  you  just  sit 
down  on  a  pile  of  sofa  pillows  to  play  with  it,  then 
you  can't  drop  it  and  make  ugly  dents  in  the  pretty, 
shiny  thing." 

This  arrangement  proved  so  satisfactory  that 
breakfast  was  finished  and  eaten  before  Waterloo 
could  be  prevailed  upon  to  break  his  fast.  A  pocket 


ANN    RECEIVES    A    CALLER        181 

full  of  marbles  poured  headlong  into  the  new- 
fangled coffee-pot  had  added  very  materially  to  its 
success  as  a  plaything,  and  the  music  of  this  kept 
him  engaged  for  at  least  half  an  hour  after  the 
cook  finally  showed  up  and  took  the  reins  of  the 
kitchen  work  out  of  our  relieved  hands. 

Cousin  Eunice  then  went  into  the  dining-room  to 
give  another  look  at  the  piles  of  silver,  china  and 
napery  that  are  considered  necessary  accompani- 
ments to  civilized  eating  in  public. 

"Almonds,  olives,  mints,"  she  said,  touching  the 
glass  and  silver  dishes  which  were  placed  in  a  row 
on  the  sideboard.  "Oh,  isn't  there  always  a  gala 
feeling  about  eating  out  of  wedding  presents?  And 
I'm  going  to  use  every  pretty  dish  I  have  this  after- 
noon." 

"Is  Mrs.  Barnette  such  a  big  personage,  then?"  I 
inquired.  The  "Scribblers'  Club"  was  going  to  meet 
with  Mrs.  Clayborne,  and  I  had  heard  much  of  the 
visiting  lioness  just  mentioned.  Cousin  Eunice  is 
the  kind  of  woman  who  takes  her  parties  hard,  and 
before  the  actual  date  of  one,  everything  in  the 
house,  from  Waterloo's  scalp  to  the  back  kitchen 
shelves,  is  put  in  apple-pie  order — as  if  a  visit  from 
the  health  officer  were  impending. 


182  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"Big?"  Cousin  Eunice  was  going  over  the  row 
of  dishes  again,  to  make  sure  that  she  was  going  to 
be  able  to  use  them  all.  "Why,  she  speaks  seven 
different  languages,  and  has  all  her  underclothes 
suspended  from  her  shoulders." 

"Mercy!  Then  it  will  take  every  piece  of  silver 
and  fine  glass  you  can  muster  to  offset  that,  I'm 
sure." 

"Naturally  I  must  make  an  impression  some  way. 
If  my  book  had  been  published  and  talked  about  all 
I  should  do  would  be  to  offer  them  a  cup  of  tea  and 
a  wafer — and  they  would  fall  all  over  themselves  for 
the  honor  of  coming/' 

"Meanwhile,  being  humble  and  obscure,  you  have 
to  serve  flesh  and  fowl  and  coffee — say,  don't  you 
reckon  I'd  better  be  scrubbing  out  the  coffee-pot?" 

"Please  do,"  she  nodded,  as  she  went  on  with  her 
work  while  I  bearded  Waterloo  and  demanded  the 
glittering  object  of  his  admiration.  Manlike,  he 
had  already  tired  of  the  plaything,  and  was  ready  to 
scamper  away  with  Grapefruit,  for  she  had  found 
a  dead  frog  out  in  the  yard,  she  said,  and  they  would 
have  a  grand  funeral  if  he  would  come  on. 

"Take  him  for  a  little  walk  now  and  save  the 
funeral  ceremonies  until  afternoon,'*  I  suggested, 


ANN    RECEIVES    A    CALLER        183 

"so  he'll  stay  out  of  his  mother's  way  during  the 
party." 

Then  I  poured  the  marbles  out  of  the  coffee-pot 
into  his  grimy  little  hands,  the  life-lines  and  head- 
lines of  which  constituted  little  streaks  of  whiteness, 
thereby  proving  them  to  be  the  hands  of  a  Caucasian. 

"There's  one  that  won't  come  out,"  he  informed 
me,  as  he  pocketed  the  others  and  departed  with 
Grapefruit. 

I  investigated  and  found  a  marble  lodged  firmly 
in  the  neck  of  the  spout,  a  most  tantalizing  position 
it  occupied,  resisting  coyly  my  efforts  to  remove  it, 
yet  protruding  almost  halfway  into  the  body  of  the 
pot.  I  stood  there  fingering  it  until  Cousin  Eunice 
came  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  I  explained,  and 
when  she  insisted  upon  trying  her  own  hand  at  the 
marble's  removal  I  reluctantly  gave  it  over  to  her. 

"Now  isn't  that  too  bad?"  she  finally  exclaimed 
with  a  nervous  impatience  after  she  saw  that  it  was 
useless  to  try  any  further.  "It  serves  me  right  for 
giving  it  to  him  to  play  with — but  I  do  hate  to  get 
him  started  before  breakfast." 

Each  member  of  the  family  and  the  servants  took 
turns  at  trying  to  get  the  marble  out  of  the  fine  new 
coffee-pot,  spending,  all  told,  several  hours  of  the 


184  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

busy  morning,  and  when  Rufe  came  in  to  luncheon 
the  story  was  poured  into  his  somewhat  unsympa- 
thetic ears. 

"I  knew  he  would  do  the  thing  some  damage  when 
I  saw  you  hand  it  over  to  him  to  play  with  this 
morning,"  he  said  with  a  fatherly  air.  "Doesn't  he 
tear,  or  break,  or  chew,  or  sprinkle  over  with  talcum 
powder  everything  he  can  get  his  hands  on  ?" 

"Maybe  you  can  get  the  marble  out,"  I  said,  bring- 
ing the  coffee-pot  to  Rufe,  and  he  worked  over  it 
for  a  full  half -hour. 

"Oh,  it's  ruined,"  he  said  disgustedly,  when  he 
saw  that  it  wasn't  coming  out.  "Of  course  the 
coffee  won't  pour!  It  will  just  drop,  as  reluctantly; 
as  tears  at  a  rich  uncle's  funeral." 

"Why,  we  hadn't  thought  to  try,"  Cousin  Eunice 
said,  and  I  took  the  thing  from  Rufe's  hand  and 
sped  with  it  to  the  kitchen  sink. 

"It  pours,"  I  announced  triumphantly. 

"Then  your  glory  as  a  hostess  is  saved,"  Rufe 
comforted  her. 

"But  who  wants  to  go  through  life  with  a  marble 
up  the  coffee-pot  spout?"  she  persisted,  with  little 
worried  lines  between  her  eyes. 


ANN    RECEIVES   A   CALLER        185 

"Besides  it  will  be  sure  to  taste  like  marbles,"  I 
added. 

The  little  worried  lines  between  Cousin  Eunice's 
blue  eyes  grew  deeper  in  the  early  afternoon  as  the 
ices  and  cakes  were  delayed  an  hour  in  coming,  and 
we  found  that  Waterloo  had  sprinkled  frazzled 
wheat  biscuit  all  over  the  chairs  and  floor  of  the 
reception-room,  just  as  the  door-bell  was  ringing  to 
announce  the  first  Scribbler.  Then  she  grew  cheer- 
ful again  when  some  of  her  best  friends  among  the 
club  members  arrived,  and  only  slightly  flurried  at 
the  advent  of  Mrs.  Barnette. 

I  stayed  in  the  presence  of  the  learned  body  long 
enough  to  hear  with  my  own  ears  that  they  were  not 
discussing  anything  too  deep  for  me  to  understand, 
everything  being  spoken  in  plain  English;  but  this 
happened  to  be  a  business  meeting  as  well  as  an 
occasion  for  social  enjoyment,  so  when  the  time  for 
election  of  officers  drew  near  I  fled,  fearing  at  least 
Esperanto — if  not  actual  blows. 

I  was  present  once  at  a  meeting  of  mother's  mis- 
sionary society  when  this  ordeal  had  to  be  gone 
through  with,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  injured 
expression  and  cutting  accents  of  the  secretary  pro 


186  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

tern,  when  she  found  that  the  office  was  not  per- 
manently hers. 

The  only  untoward  event  that  happened  this  after- 
noon (and  that  wasn't  untoward  through  any  fault 
of  ours)  was  when  Mrs.  Howard,  an  immensely  tall, 
raw-boned  Scribbler,  happened  to  speak  in  compli- 
mentary terms  of  dear  Mrs.  Clayborne's  lovely  syl- 
van room. 

"I  am  so  sensitive  to  rooms,"  she  said,  fluttering 
her  rich  lace  scarf  toward  one  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment which  she  particularly  liked,  "and  the  least 
false  note  gets  so  on  my  nerves!"  She  was  sitting 
alone  upon  a  small  sofa — alone,  yet  not  alone,  for 
Waterloo's  little,  but  loud,  mechanical  bug  was  also 
sitting  on  the  sofa,  although  his  presence  was  un- 
suspected by  Mrs.  Howard. 

This  amazing  insect  is  like  love  in  the  springtime, 
it  only  takes  a  touch  to  set  it  a-fluttering,  for  it 
seems  always  to  be  wound  up.  The  heavy  lace  scarf 
hanging  from  Mrs.  Howard's  long  arms  and  creep- 
ing over  its  back  and  sprawling  legs  was  quite 
enough.  It  caught  in  the  silken  fabric  with  its  sud- 
den zizzing,  clicking  noise;  and  it  climbed  steadily 
upward,  toward  the  lady's  stalwart,  but  nervous, 
shoulders. 


ANN    RECEIVES    A    CALLER        187 

The  meshes  of  the  lace  concealed  the  true  identity 
of  the  intruder,  and  Mrs.  Howard  no  doubt  con- 
sidered herself  to  be  in  the  clutches  of  some  poison- 
ous and  persistent  spider.  She  shook  her  scarf; 
she  tried  to  slay  the  monster  with  her  book  of  min- 
utes; she  screamed.  Finally,  jerking  the  scarf  from 
her  shoulders  and  flinging  it  into  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  she  bravely  trampled  the  "thing"  underfoot, 
and  thus  she  silenced  it.  Then  she  subsided  upon 
the  sofa,  pale  and  exhausted. 

"Let's  have  the  sandwiches — quick,"  Cousin  Eu- 
nice whispered  to  me,  and  I  fled  to  the  dining-room 
to  see  that  everything  was  in  readiness. 

Under  the  genial  influence  of  the  buffet  luncheon 
I  found  that  they  all  unbent  somewhat — enough 
to  get  down  to  commonplaces,  even  discussing  such 
things  as  husbands,  wall-paper  and  jap-a-lac. 

I  vibrated  between  the  scene  of  gaiety  in  the  house 
and  the  more  enjoyable  frog  funeral,  which  was  in 
full  blast  in  the  back  yard. 

Grapefruit  had  taken  down  one  of  the  kitcfien 
window  shades  to  make  a  tent,  under  which  there 
was  an  attractive  tub  of  water,  with  several  members 
of  the  bereaved  frog  family  sporting  heartlessly 
around  in  its  muddy  depths. 


1 88  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

I  had  not  thought  of  danger,  although  I  had  seen 
Waterloo  dabbling  in  this  tub  pretty  constantly  dur- 
ing the  last  sad  rites;  but  after  the  final  Scribbler 
had  departed  and  his  weary  mother  came  upon  the 
scene,  little  Waterloo  was  ordered  peremptorily  in 
the  house,  and  dire  predictions  were  made. 

"Oh,  ypu'll  be  sure  to  have  croup  to-night," 
Cousin  Eunice  said  dejectedly,  as  she  followed 
Waterloo  up  the  stairs  and  rubbed  down  his  dripping 
little  hands  and  arms  with  a  Turkish  towel.  This 
task  being  finished  to  her  maternal  satisfaction,  she 
turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  unutterable  weariness. 

"Unhook  me,  Ann;  my  head  is  bursting.  I'm 
going  to  bed." 

So  this  is  how  it  came  about  that  when  the  door- 
bell rang  at  eight  o'clock  to-night  there  was  nobody 
but  me  in  fit  condition  to  receive  callers.  Rufe  was 
alternately  filling  the  hot-water  bottle  for  Cousin 
Eunice's  aching  head  and  racking  his  own  brain  try- 
ing to  remember  where  he  had  put  the  wine  of  ipecac 
after  Waterloo's  last  spell  of  croup.  And  the  poor 
little  darling  was  coughing  in  a  manner  that  to  me 
was  frightfully  alarming*  With  no  thought  in  my 
mind  save  to  help  Rufe  in  his  nursing  feats,  I  had 
taken  off  my  party  frock  and  had  slipped  on  a  low- 


ANN    RECEIVES   A   CALLER        189 

neck  Peter  Pan  blouse,  with  a  fresh  linen  skirt.  My 
hair  was  about  ready  to  tumble  and  my  face  flushed 
with  worry  over  Waterloo. 

"Oh,  the  devil!"  Rufe  pronounced,  when  the 
penetrating  sound  of  the  door-bell  reached  us.  But 
it  was  not  the  devil. 

"It  is  Mr.  Chalmers,"  I  said,  with  a  little  catch  in 
my  breath  as  I  heard  his  voice  down  in  the  hall. 

"Well,  you  run  down  and  get  him  settled,"  Rufe 
said,  holding  up  a  little  bottle  of  dark-colored  liquid 
to  the  light  to  read  the  label,  " — then  come  on  back 
for  a  few  minutes  and  help  me  give  the  rooster  a 
dose  of  this — will  you  ?  It  always  requires  an  assist- 
ant." 

"Let's  give  the  medicine  now — then  I'll  dress 
before  I  go  down." 

"Nonsense!  You  look  a  thousand  times  prettier 
flushed  and  careless — as  you  are  now — than  you  do 
all  fixed  up  with  your  hair  smooth.  I  don't  like  to 
keep  him  waiting  long,  for  he  might  have  come  to 
see  me  about  something  important.  You  sound  him, 
like  a  good  girl,  and  if  he  doesn't  want  to  see  me 
particularly  tell  him  that  my  family  is  ill  and  that 
you  will  entertain  him." 

I  did  take  time  to  glance  into  the  mirror  to  satisfy 


190  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

myself  that  Rufe  was  not  entirely  wrong — then  I 
ran  down-stairs. 

Mr.  Chalmers  was  standing  on  the  hearth-rug 
with  his  back  to  the  fire  (which  Cousin  Eunice  had 
ordered  kindled  up  all  over  the  house  when  she  real- 
ized that  there  was  danger  of  Waterloo  having 
croup),  as  I  came  down  the  steps,  and  when  he  saw, 
through  the  big  doorway,  that  I  was  alone,  he  came 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  to  meet  me.  The  front  part 
of  the  house  was  still  open,  and  there  was  a  beautiful 
moonlight.  After  I  had  greeted  him  I  stood  in  the 
dimly  lighted  hall  a  moment,  looking  out  into  the 
night;  then  I  went  on  into  the  long,  beautiful  room, 
which  was  filled  with  the  scent  of  roses  to-night,  and, 
as  we  drew  up  before  the  fire,  I  shivered  a  little. 
There  was  just  enough  crispness  in  the  chilly  air 
to  cause  a  deliciously  shivery  sensation. 

"Well,  you  have  no  engagement  for  this  evening, 
I  hope,"  he  began,  as  I  moved  closer  to  the  hearth 
and  stirred  the  fire  into  a  brighter  blaze.  "I  should 
have  telephoned,  I  know,  but  I  was  detained  at  the 
office  until  quite  late." 

"No,  there  are  no  engagements  to-night.  Cousin 
Eunice  has  gone  to  bed  with  a  headache  and  Rufe  is 
nursing  Waterloo  through  a  spell  of  croup.  By  the 


ANN    RECEIVES   A   CALLER        191 

way,  you'll  excuse  me  while  I  run  back  a  few  min- 
utes and  help  give  the  little  fellow  a  dose  of  medi- 
cine?" 

"Certainly — if  you'll  promise  not  to  be  long,"  he 
said  with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  it  will  take  only  a  little  while.  Then,  when 
the  invalids  both  get  settled  Rufe  can  come  down — * 
unless  you  are  in  a  special  hurry  to  see  him  about 
some  mighty  political  secret.  In  that  case  I  can  send 
him  right  now,  and  play  the  part  of  nurse  myself." 

"Please  do  not,"  he  answered,  speaking  much 
more  earnestly  than  the  occasion  warranted.  "I 
came  solely  to  see  you.  Tell  Clayborne  he  is  not 
to  disturb  himself  on  my  account." 

Waterloo  was  breathing  better  and  had  gone  to 
sleep  by  the  time  I  reached  his  bedside  again. 

"I  don't  believe  he's  going  to  need  the  stuff,  after 
all,"  Rufe  said,  unbuttoning  his  collar  and  beginning 
to  make  preparations  to  be  comfortable.  "Eunice 
says  her  head  is  a  little  easier,  so  I'm  going  to  lie 
down  here  and  read  the  paper  until  I'm  sleepy.  Chal- 
mers didn't  want  anything  special  with  me,  did  he  ?" 

"No.  He  said  you  were  not  to  disturb  yourself 
at  all,"  I  answered,  and  he  looked  up  quickly  as  he 
deposited  his  collar  on  the  dressing-table. 


192  AT-   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"So  ?    He  came  to  see  you  ?" 

"That's  what  he  says.  He  may  later  swear  it  by 
the  inconstant  moon.  She  is  so  beautiful  to-night, 
that  you  can  forgive  her  for  being  inconstant."  I 
rattled  away  to  hide  my  trembling  joy,  brought  on 
by  the  anticipation  of  two  hours  alone  with  him. 

But  Rufe's  eyes  were  grave. 

"Ann,  don't  lose  your  head  over  Chalmers,"  he 
said  soberly,  with  that  queer  density  with  which 
a  married  man  usually  regards  a  love  affair.  (Oh, 
stupid  Rufe!  My  head  has  been  lost  so  long  that  I 
have  grown  delightfully  accustomed  to  doing  with- 
out it!)  "He  is  a  good  fellow,and  all  that,  but  I 
don't  know  that  he's  good  enough  for  you." 

"Ann!"  It  was  Cousin  Eunice's  voice  calling 
weakly  from  the  darkened  room  beyond.  I  went  to 
her  bed. 

"Ann,  is  that  Richard  Chalmers  down-stairs?" 

"Yes." 

"And  Rufe  isn't  going  down?" 

"No." 

"Well,  listen,  dear:  he  may  propose  to  you  to- 
night— I  have  seen  that  he  was  only  waiting  to  get 
a  good  chance — but  don't  promise  him  anything! 
Until  we  know  him  better,  dear!" 


193 

I  patted  her  hand  softly,  then  ran  into  my  own 
room  to  get  a  fan  that  I  might  have  something  to 
toy  with.  There  was  a  bottle  of  rich  perfume  on  my 
table,  my  favorite  lily-of-the-valley,  and  I  drew  the 
long  glass  stopper  across  my  lips.  Then  I  went  to 
the  window  and  looked  out  at  the  white  light  of  the 
moon. 

"Not  promise  him  anything!"  I  said  half  aloud, 
the  beauty  of  the  night  drawing  a  sigh  of  longing 
that  was  almost  a  sob.  "Oh,  don't  they  know  that 
I  would  promise  him  my  very  soul  if  he  should 
ask  it?" 

Richard  was  restlessly  walking  up  and  down  the 
length  of  the  long  room  when  I  came  down  again. 
He  crossed  to  meet  me  and  held  out  his  hand,  catch- 
ing mine  in  his  strong  grip,  just  as  if  we  had  not 
shaken  hands  only  a  short  time  before.  "So  I  am 
going  to  have  you  all  to  myself  to-night  ?" 

"Rufe  said  he  would  stay  with  his  ailing  family, 
if  you  would  put  up  with  my  society." 

"Ah !  Don't  you  believe  that  I  came  just  to  see 
you?  I  was  afraid  that  I  should  not  be  able  to  get 
a  moment  alone,  so  I  was  going  to  ask  Mrs.  Clay- 
borne,  as  a  great  favor,  to  let  me  take  you  to  the 
theater — or  anywhere  else  that  you  preferred.  I 


194  AT   THE   AGE    OF    EVE 

have  tickets  here  to  the  Lyceum,  and  there  is  a  taxi- 
cab  at  the  door.  Shall  we  go?" 

"Let's  stay  here,"  I  begged.  "It  has  been  an 
awfully  tiresome  day.  Go  and  dismiss  the  cab." 

He  looked  gratified  at  my  decision,  then  went  out 
to  send  the  cab  away.  I  glanced  at  the  bower  of  a 
room  and  felt  a  thrill  of  satisfaction.  It  was  all  so 
beautiful,  and  I  love  beauty. 

"Shall  I  close  these  doors  ?"  he  asked  carelessly,  as 
he  came  in  again  and  I  heard  the  chug-chug  of  the 
cab  as  it  sped  away.  "Shall  I  close  these  doors? 
It  is  really  chilly  to-night." 

"Yes,  I  noticed,"  I  said  in  some  confusion,  for 
I  remembered  that  the  closing  of  a  door  had  meant 
a  great  deal  to  Alfred  a  few  days  ago.  Ann  Lis- 
beth  had  closed  it,  because  she  knew  that  he  wanted 
her  to ;  and  he  had  looked  to  see  before  he  had  said 
a  word.  Evidently  it  is  a  way  with  lovers ! 

"I  noticed  that  it  is  cold,"  I  repeated,  as  he  came 
over  and  stood  near  me  without  speaking.  "My 
hands  are  quite  cold." 

I  recognized  the  absurdity  of  this  as  soon  as  the 
silly  words  were  out  of  my  mouth,  and  I  tried  to 
think  of  something  else  to  say  quickly  enough  to 
cover  my  shamefaced  silence,  but  nothing  would 


ANN    RECEIVES    A   CALLER        195 

come  to  my  aid,  and  I  had  finally  to  meet  his  com- 
pelling eyes  with  a  frankly  embarrassed  little  laugh. 

"Let  me  draw  your  chair  back  from  the  fire,"  he 
said,  after  we  looked  straight  into  each  other's  eyes 
for  a  moment,  "or,  better  still,  throw  something 
around  you  and  let's  go  out  on  the  little  side  balcony 
where  Clayborne  and  I  always  go  to  smoke.  It  is 
a  glorious  night." 

I  went  out  into  the  hall  and  got  a  long,  loose  wrap. 
As  he  held  it  for  me  to  slip  my  arms  into  the  sleeves 
his  eyes  traveled  slowly  over  the  crisp  freshness  of 
the  linen  gown  I  wore.  My  back  was  to  him,  but 
I  was  watching  him  in  the  mirror. 

"I  have  a  worshipful  reverence  for  virginity,"  he 
said  at  length,  "even  if  it  be  only  of  a  white  linen 
suit.  I  have  always  wanted  the  first  and  best  of 
everything.  It  is  this  entirely  fresh  and  unspoiled 
quality  of  your  beauty  that  has  so  attracted  me." 

We  were  walking  out  through  the  long  French 
window  which  opens  on  to  the  balcony,  and  as  we 
gained  the  shadow  of  a  thick  growth  of  vines  at 
one  side  he  stopped,  putting  up  his  arm  to  stop  me. 

"Ann,"  he  said,  with  the  same  sudden  directness 
that  had  startled  me  that  day  in  the  orchard  when  he 
had  asked  me  about  our  first  meeting,  "Ann,  you 


196  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

have  seen  that — I  am  attracted  ?  Dear,  I  don't  want 
to  frighten  you,  you  beautiful  little  young  thing," 
here  he  lost  his  self-possession,  "but  I  love  you, 
sweetheart — love  only  you — love  you — you!" 

His  arms  slipped  about  me,  and  tightening  their 
clasp  after  a  moment,  he  drew  me  very  close,  so 
close  that  his  perfect  face  closed  everything  else  on 
earth  from  my  view.  And  his  keen  gray  eyes  be- 
came two  points  of  steel  that  pierced  through, 
straight  to  my  soul,  and  carried  with  them  a  sweet 
potion  that  inoculated  my  being  with  adoration  for 
him. 

I  felt  his  cheek  brush  close  to  mine,  his  thin,  cold 
face  transfigured;  and,  as  if  to  prolong  the  exquisite 
torture  of  suspense,  we  both  held  apart  a  moment 
before  our  lips  met  full.  Then — 

I  was  so  swept  by  the  storm  of  strange  and  won- 
derful emotion  that  my  senses  failed  to  take  it  in 
at  first — that  Richard  Chalmers  was  mine!  He 
loved  me ;  he  was  feeling  the  same  joy  and  the  same 
torture  that  were  running  like  fire  and  wine  to  my 
brain.  Even  in  the  dim  light  my  eyes  must  have 
betrayed  some  of  this  bewilderment  to  him,  if  his 
own  thoughts  had  not  been  equally  in  a  tumult. 

"You  are  sure?"  he  questioned,  after  his  passion- 


ANN   RECEIVES    A   CALLER        197 

ate  breath  had  slackened  a  little  so  that  he  could 
speak.  "Ann,  this  means  everything  to  me.  Don't 
let  me  kiss  you  like  that  again  unless  you  are  very 
sure  of  your  own  mind." 

— But  he  kissed  me  again,  and  kissed — and  kissed 
until  his  lips  grew  cold,  and  I  felt  suddenly  so  tired 
that  I  could  stand  up  no  longer. 

Oh,  divine  rapture  of  senses  and  soul!  Could  I 
forget  that  kiss  in  the  hour  of  death  ?  I  wished  that 
death  might  come  then,  as  we  stood  together  in  that 
first  passionate  embrace,  our  lips  meeting  in  kisses 
of  fire,  our  hearts  throbbing  in  physical  pain.  Oh, 
to  die  thus — together !  So  perfect  was  the  moment 
— so  supreme  the  joy ! 

My  head  fell  over,  with  a  little  droop  of  utter 
weariness  upon  his  shoulder,  and  his  arms  loosened. 

"You  are  tired,"  he  said,  in  quick  contrition,  turn- 
ing my  face  up  to  the  moonlight.  "Shall  we  go  back 
into  the  house  ?  I'm  a  brute  to  treat  you  this  way !" 

We  passed  in  through  the  long  window  and 
walked  over  to  the  far  corner,  where  the  big  leather 
chair  is.  I  sat  down,  lost  in  its  ample  depths.  Then 
he  stood  up  in  front  of  me  and  looked  down  with 
the  calmly  contented  expression  of  one  who  is 
greatly  pleased  over  a  new  possession. 


198  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"You  beautiful  little  young  thing,"  he  said  again. 

"Young?"  I  felt  so  secure,  so  happy,  when  dis- 
cussing the  question  of  age  with  him  now. 

"That  is  all  I'm  afraid  of!  You  may  grow  tired 
of  me." 

"You  are  afraid  of  nothing,  Cceur  de  Lion,"  I 
answered  with  an  adoring  look  that  brought  on  an- 
other avalanche  of  caresses.  "I  have  always  called 
you  that." 

"Always?    Since  when?" 

"Since  that  day  at  the  gates  of  the  cemetery." 

"Ah!  And  I  have  never  ceased  for  an  hour  to 
think  of  you  since  that  day — and  to  wonder  how  I 
could  make  you  love  me." 

"When  all  the  time  you  were  the  man  of  my 
dreams.  Your  face  told  me  that  when  I  first  saw 
you — cold  as  steel  to  all  the  world,  yet  strong  as 
steel  for  me." 

"You  have  never  imagined  yourself  in  love  be- 
fore, Ann?"  he  asked,  after  a  little  silence  which  he 
beguiled  by  raising  each  finger-tip  of  my  left  hand 
to  his  lips. 

"No." 

"I  thought  not.  A  woman  doesn't  kiss  like  that 
but  once." 


ANN    RECEIVES   A   CALLER        199 

"—Andaman?" 

"I've  told  you  that  I  have  never  cared  for  any 
other  woman.  That's  what  makes  me  feel  such  an 
utter  fool  now !  To  think  that,  at  my  age,  I  should 
have  let  a  passion  take  such  possession  of  me — be- 
fore I  knew  whether  or  not  there  was  the  slightest 
chance  of  its  being  returned!" 

"Oh,  love,  how  humble  the  little  god  makes  us! 
When  all  along  you  have  been  King  Richard  to  me." 

"Well,  there  was  never  a  king  who  found  so 
worthy  a  queen-consort.  When  are  you  going  to 
marry  me,  Ann  ?" 

We  had  strayed  off  the  heights  a  little  and  I  was 
taking  a  much-needed  breathing  spell  in  the  less 
rarified  air,  when  he  sent  my  senses  reeling  again  at 
the  question.  Married !  To  this  regal  creature,  who 
is  so  splendid  in  mind,  body  and  spirit !  And  he  was 
asking  me  to  marry  him,  me — simple  Ann  Fielding, 
a  dreamer  of  dreams,  who  had  never  dreamed  one 
half  so  radiant  as  this  blessed  reality!  To  live  with 
him  always!  "The  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star," 
oh,  joy,  the  moth  was  going  to  reach  the  star  this 
time!  Greater  joy!  the  star  was  reaching  out  just 
as  longingly  for  the  moth,  and  calling  the  tiny  crea- 
ture another,  an  infinitely  brighter  star! 


200  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

"I  hardly  expected  you  to  be  in  such  a  hurry  about 
marrying,"  I  finally  answered,  after  he  had  repeated 
the  question.  "I  have  heard  you  say  such  cynical 
things  about  the  holy  estate — when  you  thought  I 
wasn't  listening.  One  time  you  said  you  thought 
passion  consisted  largely  of  not  knowing  what  a 
woman  looks  like  before  breakfast." 

"Sweetheart,"  and  his  eyes  were  very  serious,  "I 
am  sorry  for  every  light  word  I  have  ever  spoken 
about  marriage — since  you  have  honored  me  so." 
Then  teasingly  he  continued  after  a  moment,  "The 
thing  I  desire  most  on  earth  just  now  is  to  know 
what  you  look  like  before  breakfast,  sweet  Mistress 
Ann." 

"Do  you  desire  that  most  ?    Then  what  next  ?" 

"You  know,  love.  My  ambition  is  next — and  all 
I  have  in  the  world  besides  you." 

"You  want  to  marry  me  and  be  governor  of  this 
state — now,  on  your  honor,  which  do  you  desire  the 
more— Richard?" 

He  threw  his  arms  around  me  again,  as  I  called 
his  name,  and  stopped  my  mouth  with  kisses. 

"Don't  jest,"  he  begged.  "It  is  sacrilege  to-night." 

Then  we  strayed  from  the  heights  again,  and  fell 
to  talking  about  his  ambition,  and  from  that  to  more 


ANN    RECEIVES    A    CALLER        201 

commonplace  affairs  still — how  we  were  going  to 
spend  the  next  few  days,  and  how  we  might  arrange 
that  to-morrow,  Sunday,  could  be  passed  together. 
Together,  that  was  all  that  either  of  us  desired. 

"I'll  come  early  enough  in  the  morning  to  go  to 
church  with  you,"  he  suggested,  "then  we'll  have 
luncheon  at  Beauregard's,  if  we  can  get  Mrs.  Clay- 
borne  to  go  with  us,  and — " 

"Mrs.  Clayborne?"  I  asked  in  surprise.  "What 
for?" 

"Ann,"  and  he  took  my  hand  gently,  as  if  he 
might  be  admonishing  a  child,  "I  consider  it  entirely 
out  of  place  for  a  woman  to  go  out  alone  with  a  man, 
even  if  the  two  are  engaged.  Evidently  your  mother 
has  never  given  the  matter  as  much  consideration  as 
I  have  always  insisted  should  be  used  in  the  case  of 
my  sister — for  I  have  seen  you  alone  with  this 
friend,  Doctor  Morgan,  several  times.  When  I  hap- 
pened to  meet  you  in  Beauregard's  the  night  of  the 
circus,"  there  was  a  struggle  here  between  amuse- 
ment and  sarcasm,  "I  thought,  of  course,  he  was 
some  very  close  relative.  But  I  find  that  he  is  only 
a  dear  friend,  with  whom  you  take  long  country 
drives — and  who  gives  you  heirloom  volumes  of 
Byronic  poetry." 


202  AT    THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"We  have  known  each  other  since  he  first  started 
to  college,"  I  stated,  by  way  of  defense,  but  I  own 
with  less  assurance  than  I  should  have  used  if  there 
had  not  been  before  me  the  picture  of  the  scene  in 
Ann  Lisbeth's  library. 

"I  think  it  would  be  well  to  return  the  book  with 
a  note  saying  that  you  had  found  it  too  valuable  a 
gift  for  you  to  feel  justified  in  accepting.  And,  of 
course,  you  understand  that  from  now  on  /  furnish 
you  with  every  pleasure  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  a 
man  to  provide  for  the  woman  he  loves.  If  you 
want  books,  you  have  only  to  let  me  know;  if  you 
wish  to  take  a  long  country  drive,  you  have  but  to 
call  me.  I'll  even  take  you  to  the  circus,"  we  both 
laughed,  "if  your  inclination  is  in  that  direction ;  but, 
little  love,  no  other  man  must  come  near  you !" 

"You  are  inclined  to  be  jealous?" 

"Not  at  all !  I  am  simply  trying  to  avoid  all  cause 
for  jealousy." 

"There  isn't  any  other  man  who  wants  to  come 
near  me,"  I  answered  truthfully,  as  I  recalled  Al- 
fred's beseeching  look  when  he  had  virtually  asked 
me  to  avoid  meeting  him. 

"Nonsense,"  he  declared,  so  suddenly  and  so  de- 
cidedly that  I  smiled  with  the  pure  joy  of  having 


ANN    RECEIVES    A   CALLER        203 

him  jealous.  Richard  Chalmers  jealous!  Afraid 
that  I  might  fall  in  love  with  some  other  man !  "No- 
body could  look  at  you  without  being  attracted.  I 
am  far  from  being  a  ladies'  man,  but  I  acted  a  fool 
for  weeks  last  winter — because  I  had  happened  to 
pass  you  on  a  country  road.  .When  you  were  driv- 
ing with  another  man,  too!" 

"That  was  because  we  had  found  each  other,"  I 
said,  running  my  hand  through  his  soft,  light  hair, 
and  dwelling  on  the  proud  privilege  that  was  mine. 

" — Well,  you  will  be  guided  by  my  advice  in  this 
matter,  I  feel  sure,"  he  said  finally,  "and  you  are  too 
clever  a  little  woman  not  to  manage  to  keep  all  other 
men  at  arm's  length  without  betraying  the  secret  of 
our  engagement." 

"Secret?" 

"Yes,  please,  dearest !  Let  us  keep  it  secret  from 
every  one  save  our  families  until  this  deuced  nomina- 
tion business  is  over.  There  would  be  a  lot  of  talk, 
you  understand,  because  I  happen  to  be  a  little  in 
the  limelight  now.  They  would  be  wanting  to  put 
your  picture  in  the  papers  for  all  the  other  men  to 
gaze  at.  I  can't  bear  to  see  a  woman's  picture  in 
the  paper." 

I  laughed  a  little  and  agreed  with  him.    This  was 


204  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

only  another  phase  of  his  kingly  character.  What- 
ever is  his  must  be  his,  with  a  fanatical  exclusion  of 
every  one  else. 

"I  called  you  Richard,  Cceur  de  Lion,  but  it  was 
a  mistake.  You  are  a  sultan." 

"With  only  one  love,  my  Nourjehan." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   DRAWN    BATTLE 

all  the  time  the  marble  belonged  in  the 
coffee-pot  spout!" 

"How  do  you  know?  Who  told  you?" 

Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice  looked  up  from  trie 
grape-fruit  which  had  been  absorbing  their  atten- 
tion. They  always  sleep  late  on  Sunday  morning, 
and,  on  account  of  the  headache  and  croup  of  the 
night'  before,  they  had  slept  later  than  usual  this 
morning.  I  had  been  up  for  hours  and  had  already 
had  a  walk  out  in  the  brilliant  October  sunshine. 

"Your  Cousin  Richard  told  me !" 

My  words  were  quietly  spoken,  with  only  a  tiny 
smile  that  insisted  upon  creeping  around  the  corners 
of  my  mouth,  out  of  sheer  happiness  from  speaking 
his  name.  But,  quiet  as  they  were,  they  electrified 
the  two  at  the  table. 

"Ann!   What?" 

"  'Tis  true.  The  marble  is  placed  in  there,  when 
the  pot  is  being  made — to  keep  in  the  heat,  you  un- 

205 


206  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

derstand.  Richard  always  makes  the  coffee  himself 
on  hunting-trips,  and — " 

"Ann!  Will  you  hush  talking  about  coffee-pots? 
Tell  us  what  you  mean !  Are  you  already  engaged  to 
Richard  Chalmers?" 

"Yes.  Engaged!" 

"Well,  upon  my  word !  And  this  is  how  the  shy 
young  creatures  feel  about  the  matter  when  the 
man's  back  is  turned,"  Rufe  said,  starting  up  and 
pulling  out  my  chair  for  me.  "You  ought  to  have 
your  eyes  cast  down,  and  whisper  the  news  with 
blushes  and  tears,  you  horribly  modern  young 
woman !" 

But  he  patted  my  shoulder  affectionately  and  said 
Chalmers  always  had  been  a  lucky  devil.  Cousin 
Eunice  stared  at  me  a  moment  in  silence. 

"And  you  are  very  happy?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  Very  happy." 

"Then  I  congratulate  you  both."  But  she  did  not 
come  and  kiss  me,  for  which  I  was  very  thankful. 
I  have  a  masculine  dislike  for  scenes.  It  was  for  this 
reason  that  I  sprung  the  news  of  the  marble  in  the 
spout  first. 

She  asked  a  few  questions  as  to  how  it  had  come 
about,  but,  while  she  manifested  no  great  enthusi- 


A   DRAWN    BATTLE  207 

asm,  she  was  too  humane  to  make  any  kill-joy  ref- 
erence to  her  request  of  me  last  night. 

We  finished  breakfast  and  I  pushed  back  my  chair. 

"Well,  I  must  hurry  and  dress  for  church,"  I 
said,  looking  nonchalantly,  out  the  window,  for  I 
knew  that  this  would  be  another  bomb.  I  have  al- 
ways been  a  notorious  heathen  in  my  family  circles. 
I  usually  spend  Sunday  morning  in  the  woods  with 
a  book  of  poetry  or  philosophy — sometimes  with 
two  or  three  children  from  the  village— but  I  never 
go  to  church. 

The  bomb  exploded. 

"Rufe,  listen!  Did  you  hear  that?  Going  to 
church  with  her  young  man!" 

"Well,  it  was  his  first  request  of  me.  I  couldn't 
refuse  it,  could  I?" 

"Chalmers  always  has  had  a  way  of  making  peo- 
ple do  exactly  what  he  wishes,"  Rufe  said,  coming 
up  to  Cousin  Eunice  to  kiss  her  good-by. 

"I  shall  do  as  he  wishes  when  I  think  it  is  right," 
I  answered  with  some  spirit,  for  it  aroused  me  to 
think  they  should  consider  me  an  incipient  "door- 
mat wife."  "But  of  course  he  will  soon  learn  that 
I  am  not  like  his  mother  and  Evelyn." 

"God  forbid  that  he  should  ever  malce  you  like 


208  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

them!"  Cousin  Eunice  said,  with  so  much  fervor 
that  I  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"You  don't  think  that  he  made  them — what  they 
are?"  I  asked. 

"I — don't  know,"  she  said,  looking  at  me  gravely. 
"He  is  masterful ;  but  that  is  far  from  being  a  bad 
trait.  I  imagine  that  his  attitude  toward  you  will 
be  just  what  you  make  it.  Be  frank  and  sincere  with 
him  always — just  as  you  are  with  the  rest  of  the 
world.  And  never  let  him  make  you  do  anything 
that  will  lower  your  self-respect.  Many  wives  do 
not  know  the  meaning  of  that  word." 

"But  Richard  will  always  exalt  his  wife." 

"Yes.  He  will  exalt  everything  that  is  his — sim- 
ply because  he  possesses  self-respect  himself,  raised 
to  the  n-th  power.  You  will  be  the  best-dressed, 
the  best-housed,  the  best-established  woman  in  your 
set.  And  that  set  will  be  wherever  he  chooses  to  place 
you.  If  he  rises  politically  you  will  have  a  brilliant 
course  marked  out  before  you;  if  he  does  not  you 
will  still  have  a  life  of  luxury,  leading  the  smart  set 
in  Charlotte ville." 

"Don't,"  I  begged,  for  sfie  Had  spoKen  half  in 
earnest  about  the  life  in  Charlotteville.  "You  know 
how  I  hate  just  plain  society — the  kind  that  Mrs. 


A   DRAWN    BATTLE  209 

Chalmers  and  Evelyn  love.  It  would  be  the  extinc- 
tion of  me.  Above  everything  else  on  earth  I  love 
freedom.  But  I  also  love  the  'paths  of  glory.' ' 

"And,  don't  you  see,  dear  child,  that  if  you  tread 
these  paths  with  a  man  as  much  older  than  yourself 
as  Richard  Chalmers  is,  and  especially  a  man  whose 
disposition  tends  toward  tyranny,  that  you  will 
march  to  the  music  that  he  directs?" 

"Well,  if  it's  the  music  of  his  voice  I  shall  bow 
my  head  and  face  the  east  whenever  I  hear  it." 

"Don't  think  that  I  am  a  croaker,  but  I  am  a  mar- 
ried woman  and  older  than  you,"  she  kept  on,  ig- 
noring the  extravagance  of  my  last  sentence,  "and  I 
may  be  able  to  give  you  some  advice  that  will  help 
you.  You  are  a  girl  of  an  intense  nature,  very 
candid,  very  kind-hearted,  but  alas,  very  impracti- 
cal. Having  been  reared  as  you  were  you  are  nat- 
urally self -centered  and  visionary,  with  a  capacity 
for  development,  but  as  yet  you  have  not  reached 
any  very  high  degree  of  serenity  or  strength,  in  spite 
of  all  the  pencil-marks  you  put  in  your  little  volume 
of  Marcus  Aurelius.  You  have  never  had  to  prac- 
tise sacrifice,  patience,  endurance — any  of  the  vir- 
tues which  make  a  woman,  and  without  which  life 
is  a  vain  thing." 


210  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"All  those  things  will  come  with^— marriage,"  I 
said. 

"With  marriage  where  the  man  recognizes  an 
equal  partnership,"  she  amended. 

"Cousin  Eunice,  you  have  no  idea  of  what  Rich- 
ard thinks  of  me,"  I  explained,  feeling  very  grave 
myself  by  this  time,  but  wishing  to  set  her  right  in 
regard  to  my  standing  with  my  lover.  "Of  course 
all  of  you  still  think  of  me  as  being  ridiculously 
young  and  irresponsible,  somehow,  just  because  I 
have  never,  as  you  say,  been  put  to  any  test.  But 
Richard  knows  that  I  am  a  woman,  capable  of  know- 
ing my  own  mind — and  he  adores  me — just  as  I 
do  him." 

"Dear,"  our  voices  had  sunk  low,  and  she  came 
over  and  laid  her  hand  upon  my  arm,  "an  adoring 
husband  is  a  delightful  thing — between  the  pages 
of  a  book.  But  you  will  need  a  man  who  loves  and 
trusts  you." 

"I  am  sure  Richard  does  that." 

"I  hope  so.  It  may  be  that  you  can  be  a  power  for 
good  in  his  life,  taking  a  sincere  interest  in  his  work, 
and  letting  your  own  honesty  be  a  kind  of  bulwark 
to  him  in  the  corruption  which  will  be  sure  to  assail 
him  in  his  career.  Never  hedge  with  him,  Ann,  in 


A    DRAWN    BATTLE  211 

the  little  things;  then  he  will  have  an  ideal  of  his 
wife  which  will  keep  him  from  ever  being  tempted 
to  hedge  in  the  big  things." 

"You  know  it  is  not  my  nature  to  hedge,"  I  re- 
plied, rather  emphatically. 

"You  have  never  been  tempted  to,"  she  answered. 
"I  know  that  you  would  never  come  down  to  lying 
about  the  price  of  a  fur  coat,  but  luxuries  happen 
not  to  be  your  weak  point." 

"Fortunately  not,"  I  said,  with  a  little  laugh,  for 
the  discussion  seemed  a  waste  of  time  to  me.  Still 
I  know  that  newly  engaged  girls  and  brides  have  to 
listen  to  a  lot  of  admonishing  from  their  female 
relatives.  I  wished,  upon  this  occasion,  that  I  could 
take  mine  as  indifferently  as  I  once  saw  a  bride  take 
hers.  I  was  a  child  at  the  time,  but  even  then  I  was 
impressed  by  the  absurdity  of  a  conventional  aunt 
giving,  in  a  well-modulated  voice,  the  usual  advice 
about  "bear  and  forbear,"  as  the  pretty  little  bride- 
niece  sat  by  and  allowed  big,  conventional  tears  to 
roll  down  her  cheeks,  while  she  kept  on  industriously 
cleaning  her  diamond  rings ! 

"What  is  my  weak  point?" 

I  asked  the  question,  half  hoping  th'at  tfie  falK 
would  be  steered  away  from  the  radiant  subject,  but 


212  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

to  my  surprise  I  found  that  I  was  moving  around  in 
a  circle. 

"Your  weak  point  is  Richard  Chalmers — now  and 
for  the  rest  of  your  life !" 

"You  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  you  idealize  him  and  worship  him." 

"I  do,"  I  answered  proudly. 

"And  he  thinks  you  are  the  prettiest  little  creature 
he  ever  saw,  so  he  wants  you  for  his,"  she  kept  on, 
analyzing  my  feelings  and  his  with  such  a  persistent 
accuracy  that  I  found  myself  hoping  my  bridal  ad- 
vice would  be  given  me  by  some  one  with  less 
power  of  character  delineation  than  is  possessed  by 
a  lady  novelist. 

"Ann,  when  a  middle-aged  man  marries  a  young 
woman,  especially  if  the  man  has  money,  he  is  likely 
to  treat  his  wife  less  like  a  wife  than  a — mistress. 
He  showers  her  with  violets,  kisses,  diamonds;  but 
he  neither  burdens  her  with  his  troubles  nor  calls 
upon  her  for  help.  Now,  this  may  be  pleasant  for 
the  woman,  if  she  be  a  certain  type  of  woman,  who 
marries  a  man  to  be  'taken  care'  of,  but  it  is  not  con- 
ducive to  character  development.  If  the  man  is  poor 
and  the  woman  has  to  cook  she  has  a  better  chance 
to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  but  this  is  a  rare 


A    DRAWN    BATTLE  213 

opportunity,  for  a  young  woman  seldom  marries  a 
middle-aged  poor  man." 

"But  surely  you  don't  think  that  I  am  marrying 
Richard  for  his  money?" 

There  was  no  reproach  in  my  tone ;  I  was  simply 
astounded  that  any  one  could  take  such  a  view  of 
the  matter. 

"Certainly  not  in  cold-blood,"  she  answered.  "I 
think  you  are  bewildered — hypnotized  by  the  halo 
which  you  have  placed  upon  his  head ;  and  the  glitter 
of  the  man's  amazing  good  looks." 

"The  halo  was  already  there,"  I  corrected,  but  not 
so  staunchly  as  my  conscience  made  me  feel  that  I 
should  have  done.  Cousin  Eunice  has  a  disagreeably 
convincing  tone  in  argument. 

"His  good  looks,  while  undeniably  there,  are  en- 
hanced by  the  luxury  with  which  he  surrounds  him- 
self— his  handsome  clothes  are  a  distinct  asset.  Can 
you  deny  it?" 

"Certainly  not !  And  his  cigars  are  a  joy.  When 
I  shook  out  my  hair  last  night  it  was  fragrant 
with  the  odor.  He  smoked,  you  know,  out  on  the 
balcony." 

"Ah,  and  then  you  thought  that  your  hair  was  a 
halo — because  it  had  the  odor  of  his  cigars  in  it!" 


214  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

"Well,  let's  not  get  away  from  the  subject  of  his 
halo.  I  believe  you  said  that  I  placed  it  around  his 
head?" 

"You  have  done  so,  Ann!  That  halo  has  lain  all 
the  years  of  your  life  in  your  imaginative  mind. 
You  have  kept  it  in  a  sacred  chamber  of  your 
thoughts,  while  every  tale  of  chivalry  and  every  rec- 
ord of  noble  deeds  has  sent  you  to  that  chamber  with 
more  golden  virtues  to  weave  into  the  beautiful 
crown.  Then  one  day  you  suddenly  storm  that 
room  and  snatch  up  the  halo  to  place  it  triumphantly 
upon  the  head  of  the  first  startlingly  handsome 
man  you  meet !" 

"If  I  have  had  a  halo  I  have  placed  it  upon  the 
head  of  Richard  Chalmers,  who  wears  it  so  grace- 
fully," I  defended. 

"I  admit  the  grace,"  she  said,  still  speaking 
gravely.  "But— -does  it  'fit?" 

"Well,  he  will  be  here  in  less  than  an  hour,"  I 
replied,  looking  up  at  the  clock  in  some  alarm,  for 
I  felt  that  I  must  be  very  beautifully  and  carefully 
dressed  upon  this  occasion.  "I  want  you  to  come 
iri  and  talk  with  him  every  time  he  comes,  and  maybe 
you  will  tell  me  if  you  think  I  need  to  take  any  tucks 
in  the  halo!" 


A   DRAWN    BATTLE  215 

At  half -past  ten  he  came.  I  was  still  up-stairs 
when  I  heard  the  gate  click,  but  I  ran  to  the  window 
and  gazed  down  upon  him  in  silent  satisfaction.  He 
threw  away  his  cigar  and  swung  briskly  up  the  walk, 
the  morning  sun  shining  down  upon  his  glossy  hat, 
and  changing  it  into  an  absurd  kind  of  halo. 

"How  is  my  little  girl?"  he  asked  in  a  low  tone 
as  I  met  him  in  the  hall.  "Has  it  seemed  a  long  time 
since  last  night?" 

We  passed  into  the  drawing-room  and  found 
chairs  that  would  not  be  directly  in  the  line  of  vision 
of  any  one  who  might  be  crossing  the  hall  in  front 
of  the  door.  He  caught  my  hand  and  pressed  it,  but 
there  was  no  sudden  attempt  at  a  stolen  kiss.  This 
was  exactly  to  my  liking,  for,  above  all  things,  I  am 
artistic,  and  I  should  not  care  for  a  lover  who  came 
in  and  kissed  me  before  there  had  been  time  for  any 
display  of  feeling  to  warrant  it.  Yet  I  am  saying 
nothing  against  this  habit  in  husbands. 

"Have  you  been  waiting  long?"  he  asked,  his  eyes 
wandering  approvingly  over  my  dressed-up,  Sun- 
day attire.  I  wore  a  pretty  pink  foulard  silk,  with  a 
tiny  white  figure  in  it,  the  cream  lace  yoke  and  bit  of 
black  velvet  ribbon  at  the  collar  managing  some  way 
to  bring  out  the  best  there  is  in  my  eyes  and  com- 


2i 6  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

plexion,  for  when  pink  and  I  are  left  alone  we  are 
not  congenial.  I  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  gratitude 
toward  the  woman  who  had  made  the  dress  and  put 
that  yoke  and  collar  to  it,  for  I  realized  that  Richard 
would  be  quick  to  detect  any  incompatibility  of  col- 
ors. His  eyes  were  still  approving  when  they  strayed 
down  to  my  high-heeled  black  suede  shoes!  and  I 
felt  sinfully  proud  of  my  instep. 

"I've  been  dressed  half  an  hour.  Do  I  please  you, 
Cceur  de  Lion?" 

"You  are  so  entirely  perfect  that  I  know  now  I 
can  never  find  jewels  that  will  be  worthy  of  you." 

"Jewels?" 

"Guess  what  I've  been  doing  this  morning!"  He 
had  leaned  over  closer  to  my  chair  as  he  spoke,  and 
he  again  caught  my  hand  and  pressed  it. 

I  smiled  and  shook  my  head. 

"I've  been  buying  my  sweetheart  an  engagement 
ring." 

"Oh!" 

"That's  what  detained  me.  I  couldn't  find  a  stone 
that  I  exactly  cared  for." 

He  drew  a  little  brown  kid  box  from  his  pocket 
and  touched  the  tiny  pearl  clasp. 


A   DRAWN    BATTLE  217 

"See  if  you  think  this  will  do,"  he  said,  handing 
me  the  opened  box. 

On  the  rich  satin  lining  lay  a  big  blue  diamond; 
it  caught  the  gleams  of  morning  sunlight  to  its  heart, 
then  sent  them  back,  with  a  dazzling  radiance,  to  my 
eyes. 

I  looked  up  at  him  and  had  begun  to  speaK  when 
there  was  the  swish  of  skirts  at  the  door  and  Cousin 
Eunice  came  into  the  room.  I  closed  the  box  in  my 
hand  and  listened  to  what  she  might  say  to  him  in 
greeting. 

"I  came  to  warn  you  two  benighted  young  people 
that  it  is  high  time  for  you  to  start  to  church,  if  you 
are  still  in  the  notion  of  going,"  she  said,  after  she 
had  shaken  hands  with  Richard  and  remarked  upon 
the  beauty  of  the  morning.  "You  can't  rely  upon 
Ann  to  know  anything  about  church  time,"  she  con- 
tinued, as  he  wheeled  up  a  chair  for  her  and  we  all 
three  sat  down  again.  "She  hasn't  been  to  churcri 
since  she  was  in  the  infant  class  at  Sunday-school." 

"Ah !  So  I  shall  have  missionary  work  to  do — the 
first  thing,"  he  said,  answering  her  light  banter. 
Then,  after  a  moment  he  reached  over  and  took  my 
hand,  which  was  lying  on  the  arm  of  my  chair,  in 


218  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

his.     The  gesture  was  infinitely  chivalrous  and  ca- 
ressing. 

"Mrs.  Clayborne,  Ann  has  told  you  of  our  happi- 
ness?" 

"Yes.  And  I  congratulate  you  sincerely."  Her 
blue  eyes  were  suddenly  grave  and  tender.  She 
arose  and  extended  her  hand  to  him  in  frank  fellow- 
ship. He  towered  above  her  a  moment  as  he  grate- 
fully pressed  the  welcoming  hand,  then  she  turned 
and  put  her  arm  around  my  shoulder. 

"Ann  is  my  little  sister,"  she  said,  looking  into  his 
eyes  with  a  steady  glance.  "You  must  always  be 
very  good  to  her." 

"I  expect  to  be,"  he  answered  gravely. 

We  showed  her  the  ring  and  she  admired  its  bril- 
liant beauty. 

"But,  you  conceited  man,"  she  said,  with  a  really 
cousinly  laugh  as  she  turned  upon  him,  "you  must 
have  bought  this  before  she  accepted  you!  She  told 
me  that  the  wonderful  event  happened  only  last 
night!  This  is  Sunday." 

"Oh,  I  happen  to  know  Harper  pretty  well,"  he 
explained,  mentioning  the  name  of  the  best-known 
jeweler  in  the  city.  "I  called  him  early  this  mom- 
ing  and  he  went  down  and  we  took  a  look  through 


A    DRAWN    BATTLE  219 

the  vaults  together.  This  was  rather  the  best  stone 
I  could  find,  so  I  waited  for  him  to  set  it  for  me." 

"Well,  I  must  admit  that  I  admire  both  your  taste 
and  your — precipitation,"  she  said,  smiling  on  him 
in  the  friendliest  fashion. 

I  had  not  had  time  before  to  give  the  matter  a 
thought,  but  it  dawned  upon  me  then  that  nobody 
save  my  imperial  Richard  would  have  had  the  temer- 
ity to  call  a  rich  diamond  merchant  from  his  warm 
bed  on  a  Sunday  morning  and  have  him  go  forth 
with  tools  in  hand  to  set  a  jewel.  Surely  he  could 
do  anything  he  wished !  He  possesses  an  undoubted 
power  over  men,  and  a  high-handed,  yet  charming 
way  of  having  people  do  as  he  desires  them  to. 
Cousin  Eunice  was  already  showing  signs  of  weak- 
ening from  her  harsh  judgment  of  the  earlier  morn- 
ing. I  remembered  suddenly  the  slim,  satiny  horse 
he  was  driving  the  day  I  first  saw  him,  and  how  he 
spoke  only  a  word  to  her  when  she  became  fright- 
ened at  Alfred's  car.  She  at  once  obeyed  the  in- 
fluence of  his  voice.  Tyrant?  He  is  no  tyrant.  He 
manages  to  get  his  way  always  by  being  so  lovable 
and  so  charming  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  give  in  to 
him. 

"Well,  shall  we  be  off  to  church?"  he  asked  as 


220  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

Cousin  Eunice  went  out  into  the  hall  to  meet  Water- 
loo, who  was  just  then  returning  from  Sunday- 
school. 

"If  you  prefer.  I  always  try  to  take  a  long  walk 
on  Sunday  morning.  It  makes  me  feel  so  good  and 
holy  somehow !" 

He  smiled.  "And  don't  you  feel  that  way  in 
church  ?"  he  asked. 

"No — except  when  the  big  pipe-organ  is  playing. 
I  love  the  feeling  of  cathedrals,  without  any  organ, 
but  I  know  that  this  is  only  a  revel  to  the  senses, 
and  it  seems  wicked  to  go — just  for  that." 

He  laughed  outright.  "So  you  think  that  people 
ought  to  get  spiritual  upliftment  from  going  to 
church,  do  you?" 

"I  do.  And  if  they  get  no  such  upliftment  I  think 
they  ought  to  have  respect  enough  for  their  Maker 
to  stay  away !" 

"Their  Maker?  Are  you  so  old-fashioned  as  to 
think  that  there  is  much  worship  in  these  churches — 
with  their  paid  singers  and  their  paid  preachers  and 
their  heedless,  gossiping  throngs?" 

"There  is  some  worship.  For  the  sake  of  those 
few  I  feel  that  the  reverential  spirit  ought  always 
to  be  carried  there.  But  I  am  like  you.  I  scorn  hy- 


A    DRAWN    BATTLE  221 

pocrisy.  The  sight  of  a  notoriously  immoral  deacon 
or  steward  sickens  me  with  church-going  for 
months.  So  I  get  my  spiritual  upliftment  from  go- 
ing near  to  nature's  heart.  The  birds  and  the  bees 
are  not  orthodox — neither  are  they  hypocrites." 

"Well,  you  shall  show  me  some  of  these  temples 
of  yours  about  the  week  after  next,  when  I  have 
packed  you  off  down  home,  and  have  speedily  fol- 
lowed you  there." 

"There  are  plenty  such  temples  around  here,"  I 
answered.  "We  might  go  to-day." 

"Yes,  but  we  are  going  to  church  this  morning." 

"Why?  You  have  just  agreed  with  me  that 
you  gain  nothing  from  listening  to  a  man  who  is 
paid  so  much  a  year  to  explain  to  you  something  of 
which  he  knows  nothing." 

"Good  heavens,  child !  What  a  sentence  from  the 
mouth  of  a  babe !  I  go  to  church  because  it  is  good 
form." 

"Then  you  are  the  one  who  needs  a  missionary." 

"Well,  I'll  promise  to  quit  going  altogether  after 
we  are  married.  I  shall  expect  you  and  mother  and 
Evelyn  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  respectability 
for  the  family." 

"Listen,  Richard,"  I  said,  standing  close  to  him 


222  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

and  lowering  my  voice  so  that  I  might  not  be  over- 
heard. "I  may  as  well  tell  you  now,  in  the  begin- 
ning, that  I  could  never  be  a  'religious'  woman  the 
way  your  mother  is.  Our  ideas  on  the  subject  are 
wholly  different.  I  have  a  religion,  but  your  con- 
ventional orthodoxy  has  little  to  do  with  it.  And  I 
shall  not  pretend  that  it  has." 

"Ann !  I  believe  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  a  little 
reformer.  Will  you  be  so  good,  madam,  as  to  set 
forth  your  views?"  He  spoke  in  the  lightest  tone  of 
jest.  Evidently  he  had  no  idea  that  a  woman  pos- 
sessed such  a  thing  as  views. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  vague  sort  of  belief;  a  dawning  light 
of  faith  in  the  Eternal  Wisdom,  against  which  ortho- 
doxy seems  like  a  harsh  glare  which  makes  you 
squint  your  eyes." 

"Upon  my  word!  What  would  mother  say  to 
that?" 

"She'll  never  say  anything  to  it,  for  I  shall  never 
express  such  a  thought  to  her.  It  is  a  useless  waste 
of  breath.  But,  Richard,  if  you  love  me,  you  will 
leave  me  untrammeled  in  such  matters." 

"My  dear,  you  are  to  be  untrammeled  in  all  mat- 
ters. My  only  wish  is  your  happiness.  Now  run 
and  get  your  hat." 


A    DRAWN    BATTLE  223 

"I'm  not  going  to  church  with  you  for  the  sake  of 
good  form." 

"What?" 

"My  conscience  v/ould  hurt  me  all  day." 

"Of  course  you  are  not  in  earnest,"  he  said,  and 
the  smile  died  away  from  his  lips.  "So  hurry,  dear. 
We  are  late  already." 

"But  I  am  in  earnest." 

"Then  you  are  a  very  foolish  little  girl,  and  I'll 
explain,  as  we  walk  on  down  the  street,  why  it  is  well 
for  me  to  show  my  face  in  the  different  churches 
around  the  city." 

"You  don't  need  to  explain,"  I  responded,  but 
without  stirring  to  get  my  hat.  "I  know  that  it  will 
gain  votes  for  you.  But  I  don't  approve  of  such 
methods." 

"Ann,  I  have  found  that  it  will  never  do  to  discuss 
any  kind  of  business  proposition  with  a  woman. 
So  let  us  not  waste  any  more  time  arguing  the  mat- 
ter. Go  and  get  your  hat." 

I  had  moved  back  from  him  a  step  or  two  and 
had  opened  my  lips  to  state  my  position  again,  when 
Cousin  Eunice,  for  the  second  time,  broke  in  upon 
an  interesting  scene. 

"Mr.  Chalmers,  Rnfe  has  just  called  me  to  ask  if 


224  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

you  were  out  here.  It  seems  that  there  are  some  im- 
portant out-of-town  voters  down  at  the  Times  office. 
They  are  anxious  to  see  you,  as  they  are  just  pass- 
ing through  the  city  and  will  leave  at  two  o'clock. 
Rufe  apologized  for  his  cruelty,  but  he  says  it  is 
important  that  you  should  come." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Clayborne.  Of 
course  I  shall  have  to  go."  He  turned  to  me  with 
sudden  regret.  Evidently  he  had  already  forgotten 
the  slight  difference  of  opinion.  If  he  recalled  it  he 
would  smile  over  my  "stubbornness." 

After  he  was  gone  I  told  Cousin  Eunice  of  the  oc- 
currence. 

"So  soon?"  she  asked,  with  a  smile  for  my  earn- 
estness. She  did  not  consider  his  proposed  offense 
such  a  crime  as  I  did,  but  she  looked  serious  as  I 
told  her  of  our  little  clash.  "If  the  telephone  hadn't 
summoned  him  I  wonder  which  of  you  would  have 
come  off  victorious?"  she  questioned. 

"I — wonder?"  I  repeated  absently,  but  the  big  dia- 
mond was  flashing  a  reminder  of  his  love  into  my 
eyes  and  heart,  and,  as  Cousin  Eunice  turned  and 
left  me,  I  bent  and  kissed  the  stone. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SHADOWS 

A  home,  back  of  the  village,  and  extending  so 
far  away  that  I  had  never  yet  explored  the 
uttermost  reaches  of  it,  lies  a  long,  low  hill.  It  is 
wooded  in  places  with  patriarchal  oaks,  so  stately 
and  far-reaching  that  they  call  to  mind  the  tales  of 
fairy  forests,  where  knights  in  glittering  armor  rode 
through;  or  giants  lived  in  hidden  houses  in  the 
midst  of  them. 

With  the  varying  seasons  this  hill  always  seems 
to  tell  the  silent  story  of  the  feelings  in  nature 
called  forth  by  the  changes.  It  speaks  of  joy  in  the 
spring;  a  gentle  sadness  in  the  summer;  a  glorious 
renunciation  when  the  living  green  must  give  way 
to  the  gorgeous,  though  dying,  red;  and  in  winter 
there  seems  to  be  a  spirit  of  patience. 

Back  of  the  actual  summit  of  the  hill,  and  partly 
shut  in  by  its  crest,  which  runs  along  half  of  its 
rounding  curve,  and  skirted  on  the  other  side  by 
the  woods,  where  the  oaks  and  chestnuts  grow,  is 

22; 


226  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

an  expansive  depression,  wide,  rolling,  beautiful. 
The  ground,  which  is  barren  red  clay,  is  thickly 
coated  over  with  a  scrubby  growth,  green  for  only 
a  short  while  every  spring,  when  there  are  millions 
of  minute  blue  blossoms  deep-set  in  its  mazes.  Later, 
it  takes  on  a  dull  brown  which  lasts  until  fall,  when 
it  changes  to  a  withered  yellow. 

A  few  small  cedar  trees,  growing  sometimes 
singly,  sometimes  in  sparse  clumps,  are  dotted 
around  over  the  ground,  but  the  only  actual  beauty 
of  the  place  is  its  look  of  great  space.  It  is  the 
only  spot  I  know  of  where  I  can  see  sky  enough. 

The  sky!  Yes,  that  is  its  charm.  It  seems  to 
close  down  upon  this  cup  with  such  a  nearness  that 
on  summer  days  you  can  almost  reach  up  and  touch 
the  clouds.  And  they  are  unbelievably  lovely  at 
such  times.  Then  on  other  days,  when  the  heavens 
are  hidden  by  long,  sweeping  bars  of  heavy  gray 
cloud,  and  the  wind  comes  tearing  over  the  crest, 
like  a  monster  knowingly  cruel  and  relentless — 
then  the  expanse  of  earth  and  sky  indeed  seem  to 
run  together;  but  the  look  of  nearness  is  lost.  The 
feeling  of  immensity  is  crushing;  and  you  have  the 
sense  of  being  brought  face  to  face  with  an  unseen 
Presence. 


SHADOWS  227 

Cathedrals  hold  this  Presence,  but  tamed,  trained 
and  refined  sometimes  out  of  all  semblance  to  its 
mighty  prototype  of  the  wilds. 

Years  ago,  when  I  was  a  child,  Cousin  Eunice 
used  to  take  me  up  here,  for  she  was  the  first  one  of 
our  family  ever  to  discover  the  place.  To  be  sure, 
it  had  always  been  there,  and  we  had  driven  around 
it  whenever  it  had  been  necessary,  but  nobody  ever 
dreamed  of  wanting  to  take  walks  there,  for  it  is  a 
wild,  lonesome-looking  spot,  besides  being  cut  up  in 
places  by  great  gulches.  In  the  exact  center  of  the 
depression  there  is  the  bed  of  a  prehistoric  lake. 
The  stone  basin  is  there,  with  all  signs  of  water,  at 
a  tremendous  distance  in  the  past. 

"Isn't  it  great!"  Cousin  Eunice  exclaimed,  as  we 
came  upon  the  spot  for  the  first  time  in  our  rambles. 
"Why,  it  is  like  being  in  another  world,  where 
everything  is  fresh,  and  free,  and  primitive.  Let  us 
pretend  that  this  is  our  sacred  garden,  where  we  can 
cany  only  happy  thoughts;  where  we  can  look  at 
this  immensity  and  learn  the  true  value  of  things!" 
So  we  would  often  walk  here,  sometimes  with  Rufe; 
and  then  they  would  discuss  the  mysteries  of  Life 
and  Death  and  Abiding  Love. 

On  the  Monday  morning  after  the  events  of  Sun- 


228  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

day  which  I  have  just  recorded,  I  awoke  with  an 
overpowering  desire  to  get  away  to  this  "garden." 
I  wanted  to  get  out  to  where  there  was  sky  enough ! 
To  a  place  so  immense  that  I  could  think  it  all  out 
and  get  a  true  value  of  things!  I  wanted  to  dwell 
on  the  great  happiness  that  has  come  to  me ;  to  take 
in,  if  I  could,  the  unbelievable  fact  that  I  have  been 
whirled  away  through  the  infinite  spaces  of  human 
longing  until  I  have  come  upon  and  possessed  the 
star  of  my  heart's  desire.  Star  of  my  heart's  desire ! 
King  or  sultan,  he  is  the  "god  of  my  idolatry," — 
Richard  Chalmers,  my  lover ! 

And!  while  I  craved  this  sight  of  a  wild,  free 
nature,  I  felt  keenly  that  I  should  wish,  on  a  morn- 
ing like  this,  that  the  clouds  and  sky  and  trees  should 
shrink  into  their  proper  place  in  the  background  of 
the  mighty  stage.  They  should  move  back  and  make 
room  for  me;  and  my  triumphant  ego  should  come 
and  place  itself  in  the  limelight  for  me  to  review.  I 
wanted  to  see  myself  at  the  age  of  Eve. 

I  explained  some  of  this  feeling  to  Cousin  Eunice, 
in  idiomatic  English,  after  breakfast  on  Monday 
morning,  but  here  was  a  hue  and  cry.  It  was  the 
wrong  thing  for  me  to  do,  she  declared.  I  should 
stay  here  and  get  better  acquainted  with  my  fiance. 


SHADOWS  229 

Besides,  the  first  few  weeks  of  a  courtship  were  too 
dear  and  precious  to  be  spent  apart!  I  should  die 
of  homesickness  for  a  sight  of  this  beautiful  city 
where  I  had  gained  my  new-found  joy! 

I  mentioned  the  matter  to  Richard  when  he  came 
that  evening — that  I  wanted  to  go  home  for  a  day  or 
so  anyway,  then  I  might  come  back — and  I  found 
that  he  approved  the  plan  most  decidedly. 

"I  shall  be  out  of  town  for  several  weeks,"  he 
said,  "and  of  course  I  don't  want  you  here  in  the  city 
while  I'm  away."  He  spoke  with  a  half-playful 
air,  but  I  had  already  learned  to  read  his  expression 
so  well  that  I  knew  he  was  in  earnest.  "You  don't 
suppose  for  a  minute  I'm  going  to  give  any  other 
fellow  a  chance  to  steal  you  away  from  me  now,  do 
you?  Before  I  have  had  time  to  realize  my  good 
fortune  ?" 

"I  wish  you  would  not  talk  that  way,  even  in 
jest,"  I  told  him  seriously.  "It  implies  a  kind  of 
distrust." 

He  had  been  there  quite  half  an  Hour  when  this 
took  place,  but  he  came  over  to  my  chair  and  kissed 
me  for  the  first  time.  If  Richard  does  treat  his 
wife  as  a  plaything,  as  Cousin  Eunice  suggested,  I 
don't  believe  he  will  find  it  necessary  to  shower 


_>30  AT    THE    AGP:    OF    EVK 

many  violets  and  diamonds  upon  her.    I  believe  that 
kisses  will  do  the  work. 

"Distrust!  Love,  little  love,  don't  say  that 
again !" 

"Then  let's  for  ever  bar  discussions  about  any 
other  man." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to!  And,  to  make  assurance 
doubly  sure,  I'm  going  to  pack  you  off  down  home, 
as  I  mentioned  yesterday.  I'll  be  gone  just  a  few 
weeks,  and  shall,  of  course,  run  down  to  see  you  the 
minute  I  get  back  to  this  part  of  the  state.  I  am 
going  by  Charlotteville  to  tell  mother  and  Evelyn 
the  news." 

"And  we'll  have  letters  every  day." 

"And  I'll  call  you  up  whenever  I'm  where  a  long- 
distance 'phone  is.  Some  of  those  little  towns  don't 
boast  one." 

He  drew  me  close  to  him  and  we  went  together 
out  to  the  little  balcony  where  he  could  smoke.  The 
smoke  blew  through  my  hair  and  lingered  there. 
It  seemed  almost  like  a  kiss  from  him  that  night,  as 
I  loosened  my  hair  and  began  to  brush  it  out. 

"Oh,  I  wish  it  could  stay  there  until  he  comes 
back,"  I  whispered  in  agony,  as  I  buried  my  face  in 
the  soft,  odorous  mazes;  and  thought  of  the  long 


SHADOWS  231 

days  that  would  have  to  pass  some  way  before  I 
could  see  him  again. 

"I  believe  I'll  go  and  get  Neva  to  wait  with  me 
this  morning,"  I  decided,  when  mother  told  me  that 
Mrs.  Sullivan  has  been  obliged,  by  maternal  affec- 
tion, to  send  for  her  daughter  to  come  home  and 
spend  the  week-end.  "She  will  not  disturb  my  mus- 
ings." 

I  have  been  home  several  days  now  and  have  had 
an  equal  number  of  letters  from  Richard,  dear  let- 
ters, all ;  and  after  the  receipt  of  each  one  I  feel  that 
same  inclination  to  get  out  under  the  open  skies  with 
my  joy. 

This  was  Sunday  morning,  and  there  is  a  glorious 
Indian  summer  sun  shining  over  the  earth  with  that 
soft  haze  which  only  this  season  of  the  year  gives. 
Of  course  I  could  not  stay  in  the  house. 

When  I  rang  the  door-bell  at  the  Sullivan  cottage 
about  ten  o'clock  I  was  admitted  upon  a  scene  of 
confusion  which  vainly  tried  to  smooth  itself  out 
into  a  Sabbathical  family-quiet  upon  my  entrance. 
But  the  tension  made  itself  felt  in  spite  of  the  Sun- 
day clothes  in  evidence,  and  the  Bibles  lying  in  readi- 
ness on  the  center-table  in  the  parlor. 


232  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

I  mentioned  the  object  of  my  visit,  but  Neva 
shook  her  head  reluctantly.  She  would  love  to  go 
walking  with  me,  she  explained,  but  she  was  going  to 
church. 

Her  tone  and  statement  were  both  so  inoffensive 
that  I  was  naturally  startled  at  the  storm  which  burst 
forth  at  her  words. 

"You  ain't,"  Mrs.  Sullivan  contradicted  flatly, 
displaying  an  unwonted  degree  of  animation. 

"I  am,"  Neva  answered,  with  a  Vere  de  Vere  re- 
pose. 

"Your  hats  is  all  locked  up,"  her  mother  sug- 
gested. 

"Then  I'll  go  bareheaded.  They'll  think  it's  a 
new  style  that  I've  learned  in  the  city." 

Mrs.  Sullivan  subsided  into  a  chair  and  showed 
signs  of  tears. 

"I  see  that  it's  poorly  worth  while  to  educate  you," 
she  began,  but  Neva  interrupted  her  nervously. 

"Oh,  mamma,  don't  say  educate  jew" 

"Now,  did  you  ever  hear  anything  that  sassy?  I 
don't  see  how  no  man  could  want  you!" 

Mrs.  Sullivan's  tone  was  tearful,  but  Neva's  sensi- 
tive ears  had  already  drunk  in  their  money's  worth 
of  culture  at  the  college  for  young  ladies. 


SHADOWS  233 

"There  you  go  again!  'Want  chew.'  Mamma, 
haven't  I  begged  you  not  to  go  through  life  saying 
chew  and  Jew,  unless  you  refer  to  mastication — or 
an  Israelite?" 

The  tears  actually  started  at  this  piece  of  filial 
cruelty,  and  Mrs.  Sullivan  turned  to  me  for  consola- 
tion. 

"Now,  I'll  put  it  to  you,  Miss  Ann,  ain't  that 
enough  to  make  a  woman  wish  she  hadn't  never  saw 
a  child  ?  And  do  you  know  what  this  trouble  is  all 
about? — That  common,  ig'nant  clodhopper,  Hiram 
Ellis,  that  Nevar's  almost  broke  her  neck  to  see 
since  she's  been  home." 

"Why,  I  thought  Hiram  was  in  high  favor — with 
you  all"  I  said  in  surprise,  remembering  the  occa- 
sion of  the  fainting-spell. 

"He  was,  so  long  as  Nevar  was  just  a  ordinary 
country  girl,"  Mrs.  Sullivan  explained,  wiping  her 
eyes  and  glancing  with  a  look  of  shame  and  reproach 
at  Neva ;  "but  do  you  reckon  me  and  Tim's  spending 
all  that  money  on  her  education,  and  then  let  her 
turn  in  and  marry  anybody  as  plain  as  Hiram  Ellis  ?" 

"Plain!  Well,  I  don't  see  as  we're  so  fancy!" 
Neva  said  indignantly. 

"Is  she  going  to  marry  riim  this  morning?"  I 


234  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

asked,  and  I  noted  then  the  extreme  fussiness  of 
Neva's  hair  arrangement.  It  bore  a  truly  leonine 
aspect.  She  had  on  her  school  uniform,  and  so, 
except  for  the  number  of  class-pins,  she  had  not 
sinned  excessively  in  the  way  of  dress.  But  the  hair 
gave  me  some  misgivings  as  to  her  intentions. 

"Ain't  no  telling  what  she'll  do,"  her  mother  said 
hopelessly.  "She's  bent  on  going  to  church  where 
she  can  see  him !  We've  done  all  we  could  to  keep 
her  at  home,  even  to  locking  up  her  hats  and  Tim 
carrying  off  the  curling-irons  in  his  pocket  so  she 
couldn't  curl  her  hair.  But  do  you  know  what  that 
young'un  done?  I'll  be  blessed  if  she  didn't  hunt  up 
her  pappy's  old  tool  box  and  git  out  his  old  augur — 
and  curled  her  hair  on  that.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
a  girl  so  deep  in  love  that  she'd  curl  her  hair  on  a 
het  augur?" 

"Oh,  mamma,"  she  begged  piteously,  "don't  say 
'pappy!'  And  don't  say  'hct!'  " 

So  it  happened  that  I  walked  alone  through  the 
"garden."  Alone,  yet  I  felt  that  I  was  in  a  beloved 
presence,  for  Richard's  last  letter  was  with  me.  I 
sat  down  at  the  edge  of  the  lake  which  had  dried  up 
in  the  Stone  Age,  and  drew  the  letter  out  from 
its  resting-place  to  read  it  over  again. 


SHADOWS  235 

Richard's  handwriting  is  heavy,  black,  and  almost 
as  free  from  flowing  curves  as  the  chirography  of  a 
literary  man.  "Sweetheart,"  the  letter  began,  and 
the  firm  lines  which  formed  the  letters  looked  very 
much  as  if  he  meant  it.  It  was  signed  "Richard,  R. 
I.,"  in  humorous  acceptance  of  the  title  I  had  given 
him.  But  perhaps  the  dearest  thing  in  connection 
with  the  letter  was  the  faint  aroma  of  "Habana" 
which  hung  over  it.  I  held  the  sheets  up  close  to  my 
face  and  shielded  them  from  any  vandal  winds  that 
might  slip  up  and  covet  that  sweet  odor;  and  I  re- 
called the  smile  in  his  eyes  when  he  made  me  the 
promise  that  he  would  always  be  smoking  when  he 
wrote  to  me — that  the  letters  might  be  more  real- 
istic. 

"Don't  tell  me  any  more  that  you  are  a  full-grown 
woman,"  he  said,  as  he  made  the  promise.  "You 
are  a  child — but  adorable." 

He  knew  that  I  would  be  lonely,  the  letter  stated, 
but  he  had  left  orders  with  a  book-dealer  that  a 
batch  of  new  books  be  sent  out  to  me  each  week,  to 
help  while  away  the  time.  Orders  had  also  been 
left  with  the  florist  and  confectioner — and  I  must  at 
once  report  to  him  any  negligence  on  the  part  of 
these  worthies. 


236  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"Of  course  you  have  already  acted  upon  my  sug- 
gestion that  you  return  the  Byron  book,"  the  letter 
continued,  as  if  the  mention  of  books  had  brought 
this  affair  to  his  mind,  but  I  fancied  that  he  had 
mentioned  them  rather  as  a  means  of  leading  up  to 
this.  "I  know  you  would  not  keep  it  after  I  have 
shown  you  the  impropriety  of  your  doing  so." 

"Impropriety!"  That  is  a  word  that  I  hate  and 
avoid.  No  one  had  ever,  to  my  knowledge,  used  it 
in  connection  with  anything  I  have  ever  done  up 
until  this  time.  I  bridled  a  little  as  I  read  it  over. 
Somehow,  out  here  in  the  wilds,  I  seemed  to  recall 
suddenly  that  if  Richard  is  a  gallant  lover,  so  also 
is  Alfred  an  old,  and  very  dear  friend — while  the 
Byron  book  is  a  delightful  possession. 

"I  shall  not  send  it  back,"  I  decided,  after  a  little 
reflection.  "I  shall  stand  my  ground.  He  is  not  un- 
reasonable, and  he  will  sooner  or  later  understand 
that  I  am  old  enough  to  judge  for  myself  between 
things  proper  and  improper!  Ugh,  how  the  words 
remind  me  of  my  prospective  mother-in-law! 

I  hastily  mapped  out  a  letter  in  reply  to  this,  tell- 
ing him  that  I  should  keep  the  book,  because  I  saw 
no  reason,  on  the  grounds  he  mentioned,  for  sending 
it  back. 


SHADOWS  '237 

•4 

So  intent  was  I  upon  this  idea  that  I  hastily 
jumped  up  from  my  sunny  nook  by  the  old  lake  and 
shook  out  my  skirts.  I  would  go  home  right  now 
and  write  that  letter! 

I  made  my  way  across  the  breadth  of  the  valley 
and  leisurely  climbed  the  hill,  for  the  midday  sun 
was  quite  hot.  I  paused  and  looked  back  once  in 
a  while,  for  the  garden  was  so  beautiful  this  morn- 
ing. 

There  was  absolutely  no  thought  of  defiance  in 
my  idea  of  showing  Richard  my  viewpoint,  for  I 
did  not  dream  that  he  considered  the  affair  in  any 
other  light  than  the  cut-and-dried  distaste  to  "a 
young  woman  receiving  presents  from  a  young  man 
to  whom  she  is  not  engaged."  He  had  not  asked  me 
to  return  the  book.  He  had  simply  shown  me  the 
error  of  my  way — and  I  had  failed  to  recognize  it. 

I  stopped  again  to  look  around  at  the  wild  beauty 
of  the  place  before  leaving  it,  then,  with  a  little  run- 
ning start,  I  quickly  gained  the  crest.  When  I  had 
reached  it  I  stopped  once  more,  this  time  with  a 
startled  surprise,  for  I  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  Neva.  I  noted,  with  amusement,  that  she  had 
possessed  herself  of  a  hat. 

"Well,  so  you  decided  to  come  for  a  walk?"  I 


238  AT  THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

said  in  greeting.  "How  did  you  manage  to  get  your 
hat  out  of  the  wardrobe?" 

She  stopped  still  in  the  path  and  her  eyes  suddenly 
met  mine  in  a  look  of  dumb  misery.  I  first  thought 
that  the  question  might  have  been  embarrassing  to 
her,  and  was  trying  to  think  of  something  to  cover 
it,  when  she  spoke. 

"Piled  a  box  on  a  chair  on  a  table,"  she  explained 
with  an  effort,  "until  I  could  reach  up  high  enough  to 
prize  the  top  off.  'Twas  old  and  loose — and  I  still 
had  the  augur !" 

"Neva!  Think  of  the  perseverance!  And  after 
all  that,  you  didn't  get  to  see  him?" 

At  my  words  her  mouth  tightened  at  the  corners, 
and  her  eyes  looked  very  bright  and  dry. 

"Oh,  I  saw  him,"  she  answered  bitterly,  after  a 
moment's  struggle.  "He  drove  right  past  me  while 
I  was  trudging  down  that  dusty  road  to  church.  But 
he  didn't  see  me.  He  had  Stella  Hampton  in  the 
buggy  with  him." 

"Stella  Hampton?    Who  is  she?" 

"She's  the  girl  that  sicked  the  fit  doctor  on  to 
me!" 

I  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  she  was  desolate. 

"It  ain't  that  I  care  so  much  about  him,"  she  as- 


SHADOWS  239 

sured  me,  forgetting,  in  her  misery,  her  boarding- 
school  English,  "but  oh,  I  can't  bear  to  face  them  at 
home.  It's  so  terrible  to  be  made  ashamed  before 
folks." 

I  agreed  with  her  and  insisted  that  she  go  home 
with  me,  not  braving  the  ordeal  of  facing  her  own 
family  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  they  should 
have  forgotten  it  a  little.  Tears  of  gratitude  came 
to  her  pretty,  troubled  eyes  as  she  joyously  accepted 
my  invitation. 

Mother  was  on  the  front  porch  as  we  came  up 
the  walk  and  she  welcomed  Neva  cordially. 

"Ann,"  she  said,  turning  to  me  and  speaking  in 
an  undertone,  "there  is  a  long-distance  call  for  you. 
The  operator  has  rung  up  several  times,  then  said 
that  the  'party'  would  call  again  at  twelve-thirty." 

"Oh,  mother!"  I  cried,  with  a  great  throb  of 
pleasure.  In  a  few  minutes  I  should  be  listening  to 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  that  was  a  deal  more 
satisfying  that  the  aroma  of  cigar  smoke  in  a  letter! 

"Little  runaway,  where  have  you  been  all  morn- 
ing?" I  heard  in  his  dear,  drawling  tones  after  the 
connections  had  been  made  and  listening  ears  sup- 
posed to  be  removed  from  the  line.  "I've  been  try- 
ing for  three  hours  to  get  you." 


240  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"I've  been  out  for  my  Sunday  morning  tramp,"  I 
answered,  a  sudden  overwhelming  longing  to  see 
him  sweeping  over  me.  His  voice  sounded  so  near 
that  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  half  the  length  of 
the  state  lay  between  us. 

"Alone?" 

There  was  no  drawl  to  this  query. 

"No,  not  alone.  I  had  your  letter  with  me." 

"When  are  you  going  to  answer  it,  sweetheart  ?" 

"To-day.  I  have  already  thought  up  some  of  the 
things  I'm  going  to  say  to  you." 

It  might  have  been  thought  transmission,  or  it 
might  have  been  chance,  but  at  all  events,  it  is  the 
honest  truth,  that  the  next  question  was  the  one  in 
my  mind. 

"And  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  about 
Doctor  Morgan's  book,  my  lady?" 

"A  good  deal  more  than  is  profitable  to  say  over 
a  long-distance  telephone,"  I  replied,  hoping  to 
change  the  drift  of  the  talk.  I  felt  that  I  could  say 
my  little  speech  better  on  paper  than  I  could  over 
the  wires. 

"Well,  that  has  been  troubling  me  a  little,  Ann," 
he  said  in  his  unsmiling  voice,  and  I  felt  that  his  eyes 
were  looking  coldly  into  the  space  just  beyond  his 


SHADOWS  241 

telephone.  "I  see  that  you  are  disposed  to  argue  the 
matter.  I  had  an  idea  that  you  had  not  sent  it  back, 
so  I  decided  to  ask  you  when  I  got  you  to  the  'phone. 
Now,  the  question  is,  are  you  going  to  be  guided  by 
what  I  tell  you  in  this  matter,  or  not  ?" 

No  woman  who  has  not  experienced  the  agony 
can  half  appreciate  the  feeling  of  sudden  terror  that 
came  over  me  at  the  cold  sound  of  his  voice.  It 
seemed  to  have  a  threatening  tone  of  finality  in  it 
that  chilled  me  to  the  bone.  I  had  such  a  feeling 
of  helplessness  somehow.  You  can  argue  with  a 
man  and  cajole  him  and  smooth  his  hair  when  he  is 
where  you  can  get  your  hands  on  him,  knowing  all 
the  time  that  you  are  not  going  to  let  him  leave  the 
house  until  he  has  smiled  the  smile  that  won  your 
heart ;  but,  oh,  the  futility  of  trying  to  argue  with  a 
masterful  lover  over  a  long-distance  telephone. 

"Are  you  talking?    I  can't  hear  a  word." 

"I'm  not  talking,  Richard,"  I  answered.  "I'm 
— I'm  thinking." 

"Well,  I  called  you  because  I  wanted  to  hear  you 
talk.  You  haven't  answered  my  question  yet." 
Again  that  tone  of  cold  meaning.  A  hundred 
thoughts  a  minute  were  flying  through  my  brain. 
Should  I  say  no  and  have  a  quarrel  Avith  him? 


242  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

Should  I  say  yes,  and  prove  myself  a  coward — or 
should  I  lie  to  him? 

If  this  were  a  tale  of  heroism,  I  should  have  a 
few  ringing  words  of  challenge  to  insert  right  here 
and  then  a  quick  curtain.  But  this  is  not  a  heroic 
story,  it  is  only  simple  truth,  told  with  regret  and 
aspirations  after  a  higher  courage,  yet  still  a  true 
account  of  what  happened  in  our  back  hall  this 
beautiful  Sunday  morning.  /  hedged. 

"I'll  send  it  back,  Richard,"  I  told  him,  and  he  at 
once  changed  his  tone  and  the  subject  of  his  dis- 
course, beginning  a  recital  of  how  he  missed  me  and 
how  he  was  going  to  cut  short  his  trip  up  there  and 
come  on  back.  I  scarcely  heard  the  words,  for  I  was 
trying  to  frame  for  my  own  conscience  my  sophisti- 
cated excuse.  "I  shall  send  it  back  if  he  convinces 
me  that  there  is  any  just  occasion  for  doing  so,"  I 
pleaded  to  myself.  But  after  he  had  said  good-by 
and  I  started  from  the  telephone  I  found  mother's 
eyes  fixed  upon  me  in  a  kind  of  pitying  wonder. 

I  flushed  and  looked  away.  Then  I  recalled 
Cousin  Eunice's  words :  "Don't  let  him  make  you  do 
anything  that  will  lower  your  self-respect.  Many 
wives  don't  know  the  meaning  of  that  word."  Wives  ? 
Dear  me !  I  have  been  his  fiancee  only  a  week ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THANKSGIVING   DAY 

THANKSGIVING  day— and  I  have  written 
nothing  since  the  middle  of  October!  But 
you  remember  I  told  you  in  the  beginning  that  my 
journal  might  be,  not  so  much  a  record  of  deeds  as 
a  setting  forth  of  wishes;  and  my  wishes  all  come  to 
pass  so  speedily  these* days  that  there  is  no  time  to 
write  them  down. 

To  be  honest,  I  had  no  idea  of  bringing  my  jour- 
nal up  here  to  Charlotteville  with  me,  when  I  came 
for  this  Thanksgiving  visit,  for  I  thought  of  course 
Richard  would  be  here  all  the  time  and  I  should  not 
find  a  moment  dull  enough  for  me  to  sit  down  and 
write.  But,  as  it  happens,  I  am  glad  that  the  book 
was  slipped  into  the  tray  of  my  trunk  almost  without 
my  knowledge,  else  I  should  be  spending  a  lonely 
evening  right  now. 

Let  me  see — shall  I  begin  where  I  left  off — that 
sunny  morning  when  I  parried  with  Richard  across 

243 


244'  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

half  the  state  and  lived  to  regret  it?  Or  shall  I 
begin  with  my  entree  into  Charlotteville  and  then 
jot  down  the  past  happenings  as  they  come  to  me? 
The  latter1  course  strikes  me  as  rather  the  better, 
then  perhaps  I  shall  not  be  tempted  to  give  any  one 
little  occurrence  too  much  space.  Things  seen  in 
a  sort  of  over-the-shoulder  perspective  are  more 
likely  to  shrink  into  their  normal  size. 

If  I  had  snatched  you  up,  my  journal,  the  day 
that  Richard  sent  me  that  exquisite  chased  card-case 
— a  counterpart  in  pattern  of  his  own  sacred  cig- 
arette-case which  I  had  once  fingered  with  admiring 
reverence — I  should  have  used  up  pages  and  pages 
of  space,  besides  impoverishing  myself  in  the  way 
of  adjectives.  But  I  spent  so  many  days  dangling 
that  card-case  in  front  of  me,  as  I  stood  before  the 
mirror — using  always  my  sparkling  left  hand — that 
before  I  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  possession  of 
it  there  came  something  even  better  calculated  to 
take  my  breath  away.  A  dull  gold  brooch  it  was 
this  time,  set  with  a  green  jade  scarab — the  little 
beetle  bearing  along  with  it  a  page  of  typed  pedigree, 
showing  the  why  and  wherefore  of  its  being.  It  in 
nowise  detracted  from  the  joy  of  possession,  that 
these  trinkets  came  in  the  nature  of  olive  branches. 


THANKSGIVING   DAY  245 

Yes,  my  sovereign  was  angry  when  I  brought  up 
the  discussion  of  the  book  again,  the  Byron  book, 
which  I  had  promised  to  return,  but  with  the  proviso, 
under  my  breath,  that  I  should  be  made  to  see  the 
reason  why  first.  I  learned  that  he  not  only  has  the 
heart  of  a  lion,  but  a  little  of  that  beautiful  animal's 
kingly  fury  also  when  he  is  aroused.  And  he  was 
aroused  at  what  he  termed  my  deception. 

I  made  a  clean  breast  of  the  matter  the  very  first 
hour  we  were  together  again,  knowing  that  I  could 
make  him  listen  to  reason  if  I  got  him  literally  at 
arm's  length.  But  I  had  to  listen  to  some  things, 
too,  in  that  hour;  coming  off  victorious  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  finally  called  himself  every  kind  of 
high-class  villain  imaginable.  Then,  the  next  week 
this  plethora  of  express  packages. 

So  it  seems  that  my  idea  concerning  the  warring 
elements  in  his  character  was  not  altogether  wrong. 

But  to  hasten  on  to  Charlotteville !  Mrs.  Chal- 
mers wrote  mother  several  weeks  ago  that  she 
wanted  me  to  come  for  Thanksgiving,  so  there  was 
plenty  of  time  for  the  getting  together  of  clothes 
which  I  now  knew  to  be  absolutely  essential  to  my 
peace  of  mind  when  I  should  be  with  Richard.  I 
never  knew  a  man  to  pay  such  attention  to  these  little 


246  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

details.  But  what  else  can  you  expect  when  you  are 
engaged  to  an  Olympian  god  ?  Still — I  almost  wish 
sometimes  that  he  did  not  lay  so  much  stress  on 
mere  luxuries,  for  people  can  have  a  lot  of  enjoy- 
ment in  life  without  them.  Yet  to  Richard  a  big 
house,  servants,  expensive  clothes,  all  are  as  neces- 
sary as  the  air  he  breathes,  and  he  wants  to  make 
me  feel  the  same  dependence  on  them. 

During  the  one  little  visit  I  have  made  in  the 
city  since  our  engagement  he  kept  his  promise  of 
taking  me  for  long  country  drives — but  always  in 
a  big  touring  car,  with  a  chaperon  and  a  chauffeur ! 
When  I  suggested  that  it  would  be  more  "fun"  to 
drive  that  pretty  horse  of  his  and  go  alone,  he  as- 
sured me  gravely  that  many  things  in  this  life  which 
were  good  "fun"  were  not  proper.  So  I  said  no 
more,  but  I  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  gratitude  toward 
fate  for  not  ever  sending  Richard  driving  past  me 
last  winter  when  I  used  not  only  to  drive  out 
the  pikes  with  Alfred,  but  get  out  and  go  down 
on  my  knees  to  help  him  with  a  puncture.  True, 
I  wasn't  much  help,  usually  being  good  only  to 
hand  him  things,  or  blow  on  the  patches  to  make 
them  dry  the  faster — but  I  always  liked  to  help,  and 
he  always  let  me. 


THANKSGIVING   DAY  247 

But  Charlotteville !  Well,  it  is  a  small  town  in  the 
eastern  end  of  the  state — a  citified  little  place  enough 
— where  there  are  at  least  a  dozen  people  who  own 
handsome  motor-cars;  and  the  ices  are  always 
frozen  in  fancy  shapes  at  the  parties.  Still  it  is  a 
little  town,  where  everybody  likes  to  talk  about 
everybody  else — and  the  power-house  shuts  off  the 
electricity  at  midnight. 

I  was  glad  when  I  found  that  there  were  other 
guests  for  this  occasion,  for  I  thought  that  would 
give  me  more  time  alone  with  Richard,  and  after  I 
had  met  these  guests  I  felt  glad  on  their  own  ac- 
count, for  they  are  delightful. 

Mr.  Maxwell,  the  only  other  man,  came  down  the 
same  day  that  I  reached  here ;  on  the  same  train,  in 
fact,  but  neither  of  us  knew  this  at  the  time,  for  I 
happened  to  be  in  the  day-coach  and  he  was  in  the 
Pullman. 

When  I  reached  the  Station  here  at  Charlotteville, 
and  at  first  saw  no  one  on  the  little  platform  to  meet 
me,  I  felt  a  sudden  sinking  around  my  heart;  but, 
after  the  crowd  had  moved  along  a  bit,  I  espied 
Richard's  tall  form  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  plat- 
form. He  was  looking  with  a  good  deal  of  eager- 
ness into  the  windows  of  the  one  Pullman  car. 


248  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

With  him,  and  talking  exuberantly,  was  a  boyish- 
looking  young  man  who  had  forgotten  to  remove 
his  traveling-cap.  Richard  seemed  to  be  paying  no 
attention  to  this  bright-faced  youth. 

I  dropped  my  bag  and  hastened  down  the  plat- 
form. 

"Oh,  she's  disappointed  you,  old  boy!  Tain't 
another  thing,"  the  man  in  the  cap  was  saying  as  I 
came  up  close  behind  them  and  slackened  my  pace. 
"I'll  swear  there  wasn't  a  thing  in  that  car  that 
looked  like  a  cross  between  Venus  de  Milo  and — " 

"Richard,"  I  called  softly,  and  he  wheeled  around 
in  delighted  surprise. 

"Bless  your  little  heart!"  he  said,  so  genuinely 
glad  to  see  me  that  he  forgot  for  a  moment  the  pres- 
ence of  the  other  man.  That  is,  I  thought  at  the 
time  he  had  forgotten,  but  I  soon  saw  that  he  con- 
sidered Mr.  Maxwell  too  much  of  a  good-natured 
fool  to  count  "I  thought  you  had  failed  to  come," 
he  kept  on.  "Where  the  dickens  were  you  ?" 

"I  was  in  the  day-coach,"  I  answered,  after  I  had 
shaken  hands  with  Mr.  Maxwell,  when  Richard  re- 
membered to  present  him. 

"What?" 

His  tone  was  low  and  quiet,  but  his  eyes  spoke 


THANKSGIVING    DAY  249 

surprise,  and  I  remembered,  with  a  sudden  chill,  that 
according  to  his  ethics  I  had  done  almost  a  disgrace- 
ful thing. 

"There  were  some  people  in  the  day-coach  I — • 
wanted  to  be  with,"  I  began  by  way  of  explanation, 
but  I  saw  that  this  was  making  matters  worse. 

"What  kind  of  people?"  he  asked  drily. 

"A  woman.  I  got  to  talking  to  her  when  we 
changed  trains  at  M — ;  she  had  such  a  headache — 
and  two  babies.  The  littlest  one  consented  to  let  me 
walk  him  around  some ;  and  I  fed  the  other  one  the 
remains  of  a  box  of  chocolates.  When  this  train 
came  they  got  into  the  day-coach,  and  of  course  I 
went  with  them." 

"Why  'of  course?'  "  he  asked  again,  but  with  an 
amused  smile  dawning  in  his  eyes. 

"Well,  I  was  still  carrying  the  baby !  I  couldn't 
go  off  into  another  car  with  him,  could  I  ?" 

Richard  looked  at  Mr.  Maxwell  and  laughed  per- 
functorily, but  I  knew  that  in  some  way  he  felt  that 
I  had  humiliated  him.  Mr.  Maxwell  did  not  laugh, 
although  his  is  essentially  a  laughing  face. 

"I  understand,"  Richard  said  finally,  turning  to 
me  again  and  asking  for  my  checks.  "You  have 
quite  the  appearance  of  a  good  Samaritan.  Your 


250  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

hair  is — er — just  a  trifle  ruffled.  Couldn't  you  have 
managed  some  way  to  smooth  it  a  little  before  you 
reached  here?  Evelyn  always  spends  the  last  hour 
of  a  journey  back  in  the  dressing-room  arranging 
her  hair  and  powdering  her  face." 

"Well,  of  course  I  know  that  is  the  ladylike  thing 
to  do,"  I  responded,  with  something  more  nearly  like 
sarcasm  than  I  had  ever  used  to  him  before. 

Mr.  Maxwell  was  busy  taking  his  things  from  the 
porter,  and  as  he  exchanged  his  cap  for  a  more  dig- 
nified, but  less  becoming,  hat,  I  noticed  a  scar  on  his 
forehead,  high  up  and  extending  quite  a  distance 
toward  the  crown  of  his  head.  His  hair  grew 
queerly  along  the  line  of  the  scar.  He  seemed  pur- 
posely to  have  detached  himself  from  us  for  a  mo- 
ment, so  I  spoke  to  Richard  again. 

"Richard,"  I  said,  speaking  low  and  rapidly,  so 
that  only  he  could  hear.  "I  am  sorry  if  I  am  a 
fright!  But  I  just  couldn't  prink  before  that  woman 
on  the  train.  She  was  deathly  sick,  so  I  kept  the 
baby  all  the  way.  Then  she  was  poor  and  proud  and 
— I  didn't  care  about  opening  my  bag  and  spreading 
all  my  silver  things  out  before  her!" 

He  laughed  again. 

"You  are  an  extremist,  Ann,"  he  said.    "But  you 


THANKSGIVING    DAY  251 

are  not  a  fright.  Only,  you're  so  fine,  when  you're 
at  your  best — and  mother  won't  understand." 

"Of  course  not,"  I  answered  rather  shortly;  and 
the  drive  out  to  the  house  might  have  been  a  very 
quiet  one  if  it  had  not  been  for  Mr.  Maxwell's  ir- 
repressible chatter. 

I  was  grateful  for  the  chatter  at  the  time,  still 
more  so  when  we  reached  the  house,  for  it  helped 
my  ruffled  hair  to  pass  unnoticed. 

The  feminine  portion  of  the  family  met  us  at 
the  front  steps,  and,  as  darkness  was  drawing  on,  I 
failed  to  take  in  at  the  time  the  full  magnificence 
of  the  outside  of  the  house.  When  I  saw  it  next 
morning  in  the  bright  sunshine  it  struck  me  as  be- 
ing an  oppressively  massive,  gleaming  structure, 
with  a  great  display  of  plate-glass  doors  and  win- 
dows ;  and,  instead  of  long,  generous  porches,  as  we 
have  at  home,  there  are  several  tiled  vestibules  that 
each  morning  are — no,  not  scoured,  they  are  mani- 
cured. 

Mr.  Maxwell  is  a  great  friend  of  Richard's, 
strange  as  it  may  seem  that  two  such  incompatible 
natures  should  find  so  much  in  common ;  and,  being 
heir  to  his  mother's  fortune,  is  such  a  desirable  catch 
that  Mrs.  Chalmers  frequently  has  him  down  here, 


252  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

hoping  that  he  and  Evelyn  will  take  a  fancy  to  each 
other.  Richard  told  me  this,  quite  simply.  Evelyn 
wears  her  prettiest  gowns  and  uses  her  softest  tones 
when  he  is  around,  but  she  is  no  more  interested  in 
him  than  she  is  in  any  other  man.  In  fact,  she  is  too 
well  brought-up  to  display  any  preference  in  her 
marriage.  Whatever  her  mother  arranges  for  her 
will  be  entirely  satisfactory. 

And  as  for  Mr.  Maxwell — but  that  brings  me  up 
to  a  mention  of  the  other  guest  here  now,  and  it  is 
surprising  that  I  have  not  said  something  about  her 
before,  for  she  and  I  have  been  great  friends  from 
the  day  I  arrived. 

It  is  amazing  that  people  can  get  so  well  ac- 
quainted in  such  a  short  space  of  time  when  they  are 
staying  together  in  the  same  house,  yet  when  nei- 
ther of  them  is  what  you  would  call  "easy  to  get 
acquainted  with."  I  am  not,  I  know,  and  I  feel 
equally  as  sure  that  Sophie  is  the  same  way,  yet  you 
will  notice  that  sometimes  when  two  such  diffident 
people  are  thrown  together  they  will  take  a  liking  to 
each  other  right  away. 

It  was  this  way  with  Sophie  Chalmers  and  me. 
She  is  Richard's  cousin  and  lives  in  some  vague 
place  "out  west."  She  happened  to  be  visiting  some 


THANKSGIVING   DAY  253 

of  the  other  Chalmers  relatives  in  a  near-by  town 
for  a  few  weeks  this  fall  and  I  think  Mrs.  Chalmers 
must  have  felt  that  if  she  had  to  invite  her  it  would 
be  less  trouble  to  have  her  when  there  were  other 
guests,  so  she  asked  her  to  come  and  spend  the 
Thanksgiving  holidays  with  them.  If  the  girl  had 
been  less  obviously  a  sort  of  "poor  relation"  (though 
by  no  means  looking  the  part)  or  if  Mrs.  Chalmers 
had  not  tried  so  persistently  to  keep  her  in  the  back- 
ground the  "unexpected"  which  happened  in  this 
case  would  have  been  less  surprising. 

For  Mr.  Maxwell  had  no  more  than  walked  into 
the  drawing-room  and  been  presented  to  her  than  he 
fell  in  love  with  her;  and,  like  most  merry-eyed  peo- 
ple, he  fell  very  deeply  in  love. 

Even  their  meeting  was  most  unusual — dramatic, 
you  might  call  it.  And,  as  it  took  place  at  the  mo- 
ment of  our  arrival,  it  served  to  divert  somewhat  the 
attention  from  my  disheveled  looks,  which  had  been 
such  a  shock  to  Richard.  "Mr.  Maxwell — Miss 
Chalmers,"  some  one  had  said,  as  we  all  passed  into 
the  house  and  the  tall,  rather  tired-looking  girl  un- 
folded herself  from  one  of  the  big  chairs  drawn  up 
close  to  the  hearth.  She  showed  no  surprise  as  she 
extended  her  hand  to  the  new  arrival,  but  Mr.  Max- 


254  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

well  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  as  he  held  her  hand 
in  his ;  then  he  asked  quite  simply :  "Where  have  we 
met  before?" 

The  question  was  so  earnest  and  so  direct  that  the 
girl's  face  flushed,  but  before  she  could  even  start 
to  offer  a  suggestion  as  to  whether  they  had  met 
before  or  had  not,  Mrs.  Chalmers  hastily  put  in  that 
there  was  little  probability  of  a  former  meeting,  in- 
asmuch as  Sophie  had  not  been  in  this  part  of  the 
country  in  several  years. 

"We  have  certainly  met  before,"  Mr.  Maxwell 
persisted,  his  eyes  still  fastened  on  Sophie's  face, 
and  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  along  the 
line  of  the  scar,  as  if  that  could  help  him  in  remem- 
bering. "I  am  certain  of  that.  And  I  should  surely 
not  be  so  discourteous  as  to  acknowledge  that  I  have 
forgotten — except  there  are  so  many  things  hazy  in 
my  mind — since  that  night  just  outside  El  Paso." 

I,  too,  was  watching  Sophie  intently,  as  we  all 
were,  and  I  saw  her  eyes  wander  to  the  scar  along 
his  forehead.  She  looked  away,  but  in  another  mo- 
ment had  returned  to  it  again,  as  if  the  queer  little 
white  line  held  a  fascination  for  her.  At  his  men- 
tion of  El  Paso  she  gave  a  distinct  start,  but  re- 
gained her  equilibrium  almost  immediately. 


THANKSGIVING    DAY  255 

"I  must  be  a  very  common-looking  person,"  she 
said  with  a  little  laugh,  turning  to  me  as  she  spoke, 
"for  I  seldom  meet  a  stranger  who  doesn't  know 
some  one  whom  I  am  so  exactly  like  that  the  resem- 
blance is  startling!" 

We  had  all  moved  about  a  little  from  the  positions 
into  which  Mr.  Maxwell's  first  earnest  words  had 
petrified  us,  and  Mrs.  Chalmers  was  beginning  to 
say  something  about  taking  us  to  our  rooms,  when 
that  persevering  young  man  spoke  again.  He  had 
not  moved  an  inch,  but  stood  there  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  his  eyes  fastened  on  Sophie's  face. 

"It's  not  your  looks,  that  is,  your  looks  are  not  so 
convincing  as  your — your  voice,"  he  said,  his  ex- 
pression still  showing  his  bewildered  surprise;  but 
something  in  the  girl's  face  must  have  pleaded  with 
him  to  change  the  subject,  which  he  did,  easily. 

"Well,  don't  you  think  the  scar  adds  to  my  list 
of  attractions?"  he  asked  banteringly,  as  he  turned 
to  Mrs.  Chalmers,  who  beamed  approval  upon  him. 
"The  girls  all  think  I  acquired  it  in  some  brave, 
though  mysterious,  manner — those  who  don't  know 
that  I  got  my  sky-piece  cracked  in  a  wreck  in  Texas 
last  year." 

From  that  hour  he  began  a  course  of  small  atten- 


256  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

tions,  minor  courtesies,  but  none  the  less  meaning, 
all  of  which  have  been  calculated  to  make  Sophie 
regard  him  with  quite  a  degree  of  favorable  inter- 
est, and  if  I  am  not  mistaken  none  of  these  calcula- 
tions has  failed  to  hit  the  mark.  But  since  their 
first  meeting  I  have  only  once  heard  him  refer  to 
that  unusual  resemblance  she  bears  to  some  one 
whom  he  has  known;  and  I  am  sure  he  found  the 
impulse  then  to  speak  so  strong  and  sudden  that  the 
words  were  out  before  he  had  time  to  think,  for 
Sophie  so  clearly  disliked  a  mention  of  the  subject. 
This  proves  to  me  that  they  have  known  each  other 
in  some  mysterious  manner,  but  as  she  has  never  told 
me  the  secret,  of  course  I  have  never  questioned  her. 

Last  night  at  the  dinner  table  was  when  it  came 
about,  and,  when  I  think  it  over,  it  was  a  ludicrous 
happening  rather  than  a  sentimental  or  even  mys- 
terious one.  Mrs.  Chalmer's  had  been  holding  forth 
upon  some  Scriptural  interpretations  which  her  be- 
loved pastor  has  recently  made  use  of  in  his  ser- 
mons, and,  among  others,  the  casting  of  pearls  be- 
fore swine  was  brought  forward  for  discussion. 

From  the  moment  the  word  "swine"  was  men- 
tioned Mr.  Maxwell's  face  took  on  its  bewildered 
look  and  lie  fixed  his  eyes  on  Sophie  with  that 


THANKSGIVING   DAY  257 

same  intensity  of  expression  which  they  have  worn 
so  often  this  last  week.  Suddenly  he  seemed  to  re- 
member what  his  mind  was  so  evidently  searching 
for. 

"Swine !  Pigs!"  he  blurted  out,  in  such  a  startled 
way  that  we  all  instinctively  stopped  eating  to  await 
developments.  "That's  what  I  heard  you — or  the 
girl  with  your  voice — saying  that  night.  I  remem- 
ber it  distinctly  now !  It  was  hot — heavens,  how  hot 
it  was ! — and  there  was  a  fierce  pain  in  my  head  for 
some  reason;  but  I  heard  your  voice,  just  a  short 
distance  away  from  me,  saying :  This  little  pig  went 
to  market,  this  little  pig  stayed  at  home;  this  little 
pig  had — '  and  there  you  broke  off,  because  you 
couldn't  remember  what  it  was  the  third  little  pig 
had.  There  was  a  peevish  child's  voice  crying :  'Tell 
little  pigs !  Tell  little  pigs,'  and  then  a  man's  voice, 
trying  to  help  you  out.  You  asked  the  man,  'Do 
you  know  what  the  third  little  pig  had — or  did?' 
But  he  couldn't  remember  either.  He  began  saying 
the  doggerel  over  again,  This  little  pig  went  to  mar- 
ket; this  little  pig  stayed  at  home;  this  little  pig 
had—' 

'  'Roast  beef,  damn  you,'  I  hollered,  for  somehow 
I  wasn't  as  near  being  dead  as  you  thought.  'Roast 


258  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

beef,  but  you  needn't  stand  outside  my  door  rehash- 
ing it  all  night.  Then  you  and  the  man  laughed  in  a 
surprised,  though  subdued  way,  and  walked  away 
from  me,  although  I  didn't  hear  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps." 

His  scar  showed  very  white  as  he  finished  this 
queer  little  story ;  and  he  looked  at  Sophie  almost  be- 
seechingly. He  had  the  appearance  of  a  man  grop- 
ing about  in  the  dark. 

Sophie,  too,  was  clearly  embarrassed,  but  said 
nothing  by  way  of  explanation;  and,  ridiculous  as 
the  incident  was,  not  one  of  us  even  smiled. 

There  was  a  heavy,  tense  silence  about  the  board 
for  a  moment,  then  Richard  spoke. 

"Upon  my  word,  but  this  is  interesting,"  he  said, 
in  a  slow,  sarcastic  drawl.  "Sophie,  have  you  been 
traveling  in  vaudeville  ?" 

As  we  left  the  dining-room  one  of  the  servants 
told  Richard  that  there  was  a  long-distance  call  for 
him,  a  bit  of  news  which  brought  a  frown  to  my 
lord's  handsome  face. 

"Well,  tell  'em  I  can't  be  found,"  he  commanded 
briefly,  as  he  caught  the  extreme  tip  of  my  elbow 
and  began  steering  our  course  toward  the  library. 


THANKSGIVING   DAY  259 

We  usually  had  a  few  short  minutes  alone  there 

X 

after  dinner. 

"The  operator  has  already  told  the  party  that  you 
are  here,  Mr.  Chalmers,"  the  colored  boy  answered, 
looking  embarrassed  and  trying  to  slink  away  into 
the  back  hall  as  soon  as  he  could. 

"The  devil !"  Richard  exclaimed,  under  his  breath, 
but  he  loosed  his  hold  upon  my  arm  as  we  reached 
the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  he  suggested  that  I  run  on 
up-stairs  and  wait  until  I  thought  he  had  had  time 
to  finish  his  conversation,  then  come  back  and  join 
him  in  the  library;. 

"If  you  mix  up  with  them  in  the  drawing-room 
now  you  can't  find  an  excuse  to  get  up  and  leave 
when  I  have  finished,"  he  explained,  and  I  smiled  a 
happy  assent. 

Sophie,  too,  had  gone  to  her  room  for  a  few  min- 
utes after  dinner,  and,  as  she  heard  me  stirring 
around  in  mine,  she  called  at  my  open  door  to  say 
that  she  wanted  my  advice  about  something. 

"Come  in,  by  all  means,"  I  bade  her.  "I  have  lots 
of  advice." 

"It's  about  a  dress  for  the  ball  to-morrow  night," 
she  said,  holding  over  her  arm  a  dainty  gown  of  soft 
white  silk.  She  spread  the  garment  out  upon  my 


26o  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

bed,  then  stood  off  a  few  steps  and  looked  at  it.  "Do 
you  think  it  will  do?"  she  finally  asked. 

"Do?  Why,  I  think  it's  lovely!"  I  declared  truth- 
fully. 

"Well,  I  want  to  look  lovely,"  she  answered,  with 
a  queer  little  smile,  but  as  she  sat  down  on  the  bed 
and  picked  up  a  bit  of  chiffon  flounce  in  the  neck  of 
the  gown,  she  looked  up  at  me  again,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  almost  tragedy  in  her  eyes.  "But  I  have 
no  gloves  that  are  long  enough  and  clean  enough  to 
wear  with  this !" 

"Well,  wear  a  pair  of  mine,  then,"  I  began,  noting 
that  her  hands  and  mine  are  about  the  same  size,  but 
before  I  could  suggest  this  she  had.  interrupted  me. 

"I  didn't  come  in  here  for  that"  she  exclaimed, 
rather  haughtily,  throwing  back  her  head  a  little  and 
looking  me  squarely  in  the  eyes.  "I  wanted  to  talk 
with  you  a  little  because  you  don't  seem  so  oppress- 
ively elegant  and  rich,  you  know — " 

"I  am  not  in  the  least  rich,"  I  assured  her  com- 
fortingly. "Nearly  all  my  gloves  have  been  cleaned." 

I  hastily  threw  up  the  top  of  my  trunk  and  scram- 
bled around  for  my  glove  box. 

"See!"  I  exclaimed,  holding  up  a  pair  that  she 
had  seen  me  working  on  the  day  before.  "They 


THANKSGIVING   DAY  261 

look  as  good  as  new,  but  whew!  it  would  take  one 
of  your  Texas  cyclones  to  blow  the  smell  of  gaso- 
lene out !" 

"One  of  my  Texas  cyclones?"  She  looked  sur- 
prised, but  I  fancied  that  she  was  pleased.  "Who 
told  you  that  I  live  in  Texas  ?" 

"Nobody  that  I  remember;  yet  I  got  it  into  my 
head  somehow  that  you  live  in  Texas." 

"I  do.  I  live  in  El  Paso,"  she  threw  aside  the 
flounce  of  chiffon  which  she  was  still  fingering  and 
started  to  her  feet.  I  was  standing  in  front  of  her 
with  the  pair  of  freshly  cleaned  gloves  in  my  hand. 
"Ann,  I  hate  lying,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some- 
thing, for  I  can't  keep  up  this  deception  any  longer. 
I  don't  care  what  Aunt  Ida  says." 

There  was  a  quick  rap  at  the  door  at  this  most  in- 
teresting juncture  and  Evelyn  stuck  her  head  in. 

"Ann,"  she  said,  glancing  quickly  at  us  both  and 
seeming  a  little  surprised  to  see  us  closeted  together 
in  this  familiar  fashion.  "Richard  has  just  had  a 
long-distance  message  from  the  city.  He  has  to  go 
up  there  to-night  on  business  and  he  wants  to  know 
if  you'll  let  him  come  up  to  your  door  and  say 
good-by  ?" 


CHAPTER  XIV 
SOPHIE'S  STORY 

I  HAD  to  lay  my  journal  aside  last  night  before 
I  reached  the  really  thrilling  occurrence  of 
Thanksgiving  day,  which  was,  strangely  enough, 
neither  the  dinner  nor  the  ball,  although  each  was  in 
its  own  peculiar  way  a  decided  success. 

I  have  Evelyn's  word  that  the  ball  was  a  success, 
for  neither  Sophie  nor  I  attended  it,  albeit  Richard 
had,  at  my  whispered  suggestion,  sent  Sophie  a  box 
of  long  white  gloves  from  the  city,  getting  them  off 
on  an  early  train  that  they  might  reach  her  in  time ; 
and  sending  along  with  this  a  box  of  roses — Mare- 
chal  Niel  for  Sophie,  La  France  for  Mrs.  Chalmers 
and  Evelyn,  while  for  me  there  was  a  great  sheaf  of 
American  Beauties. 

But  he  did  not  come  back  in  time  for  the  ball,  and 
I  suddenly  lost  all  interest  in  the  affair  as  the  last 
train  out  from  the  city  that  evening  failed  to  bring 
him.  Sophie  had  been  suffering  all  day  with  a 

262 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  263 

frightful  neuralgic  headache,  and,  as  night  drew 
near,  it  became  so  much  worse  that  she  declared  that 
she  could  not  go  to  the  ball.  The  lights  and  dizzy 
whirling  around  would  be  the  death  of  her,  she 
decided,  so  she  dropped  down  into  a  chair  in  the  li- 
brary after  dinner  and  said  she  would  give  it  up. 

"Then  I'll  stay  with  you,"  I  volunteered,  and, 
despite  her  own  protestations  and  feebler  ones  from 
Mrs.  Chalmers  and  Evelyn,  the  matter  was  thus  ar- 
ranged. There  were  always  far  too  many  girls  at 
such  affairs  anyway,  they  all  knew,  so  that  my  ab- 
sence would  really  be  a  blessing. 

Mr.  Maxwell  came  into  the  room  just  as  the  mat- 
ter had  been  thus  satisfactorily  settled  and  when  he 
heard  of  the  arrangement  his  face  beamed  with  a 
kind  of  mischievous  happiness. 

"Now,  that's  what  I  call  luck,"  he  said,  as  the 
door  closed  upon  Mrs.  Chalmers'  retreating  form 
and  left  us  three  alone  together.  "I'll  go  with  the 
ladies  and  stay  long  enough  to  see  that  Evelyn's 
card  is  filled — then  I'll  take  a  sneak,  and  come  on 
back  home  to  see  how  the  headache  is  progressing." 

His  smile  spoke  immense  approval  of  his  own 
cleverness,  but  Sophie  cut  it  short. 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  said  de- 


264  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

cidedly,  looking  up  at  him  as  he  stood  by  the  library 
table,  a  folded  newspaper  in  his  hand;  "you'll  stay 
and  do  your  duty  by  the  wall-flowers."^ 

"Not  I,  sweet  lady,"  he  answered  banteringly. 
"Life  is  too  short.  I'm  coming  back  here  and  enter- 
tain your  headache  away !" 

And  he  did.  He  came  in  at  about  half -past  ten,  for 
the  filling  up  of  Evelyn's  card  had  been  a  matter 
quickly  despatched,  and  he  was  in  radiant  spirits 
over  having  "jumped  the  game." 

"Mrs.  Chalmers  didn't  mind  at  all,"  he  explained 
as  he  drew  a  chair  up  to  the  fire  and  lighted  a  cigar- 
ette. "I  left  her  in  a  corner  with  a  few  other  fond 
mammas  and  she  even  insisted  that  I  should  not  go 
back,  as  Jim  goes  for  them  about  two  o'clock.  All 
I'm  to  do  is  to  go  out  to  the  stables  and  punch  Jim  in 
the  ribs  and  wake  him  up  in  time.  So  we  are  going 
to  have  a  jolly  evening  together." 

"Oh,  dear,  what  a  pleasant  prospect !"  Sophie  said, 
only  half  in  jest,  as  her  hand  went  up  to  her  aching 
head.  "Now,  if  I  could  just  get  rid  of  this  one-eyed 
pain  I  might  find  life  decidedly  worth  living." 

"Isn't  there  anything  we  can  do?"  he  asked  solicit- 
ously, casting  his  cigarette  quickly  into  the  fire  as 
if  he  thought  the  smoke  might  make  her  head  worse. 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  265 

"Can't  Miss  Fielding  and  I  make  you  a  mustard  plas- 
ter— or  something?" 

"There  is  a  little  bottle  of  stuff  in  my  bag  up-stairs 
that  sometimes  acts  like  magic  in  a  case  like  this," 
she  finally  said  with  some  hesitancy,  and  I  realized 
that  she  was  hesitating  because  she  disliked  the  idea 
of  having  any  one  fussing  over  her.  She  is  one  of 
these  capable  creatures  who  seldom  ask  even  a  small 
service  of  any  one. 

"Let  me  run  and  get  it,"  I  said  starting  up  and  re- 
solving that  I  should  get  the  bottle,  hand  it  in  to  Mr. 
Maxwell  at  the  door,  then  betake  myself  off  to  my 
own  room  and  leave  them  alone  together.  I  imag- 
ined that  he  would  enjoy  the  privilege  of  hunting 
about  to  get  her  a  glass  and  a  spoon  himself.  And 
it  would  make  them  feel  more  at  home  with  each 
other  for  him  to  be  rendering  her  these  little  services. 

I  went  to  Sophie's  room  and  found  a  bag  where 
she  had  told  me  to  look,  in  the  closet  on  the  lower 
shelf.  I  caught  it  up  and  moved  across  to  the  bed, 
where  I  sat  down  and  deposited  it  by  my  side ;  then 
I  began  a  wrestling  match  with  the  most  obstinate 
catch  that  it  has  ever  been  my  ill-fortune  to  come 
across  on  an  alligator-skin  bag. 

"I'll  just  have  to  take  it  down  and  get  Mr.  Max- 


266  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

well  to  open  it,"  I  finally  decided,  after  I  had  worked 
with  the  thing  until  my  strength  and  patience  were 
both  exhausted.  "It  is  provoking  to  see  the  ease 
with  which  a  man  can  subdue  a  thing  like  this  after 
a  woman  has  broken  off  all  her  best-looking  finger- 
nails over  the  task." 

So  I  caught  the  bag  up  in  one  hand  and  my  trail- 
ing skirts  in  the  other  and  wended  my  way  back  to 
the  library.  My  load  was  quite  heavy,  heavier  than 
an  ordinary  traveling-bag  I  remembered  afterward ; 
and  in  struggling  with  the  lock  I  had  at  one  time 
pulled  slightly  apart  an  end  of  the  stubborn  opening. 
A  whiff  of  drugs  was  borne  to  me  in  that  instant — a 
kind  of  combination  of  odors,  none  of  which  I  knew 
by  name,  but  they  were  all  strikingly  familiar,  for 
they  were  exactly  like  the  smells  in  Alfred's  small 
black  instrument  case. 

"I  hope  you  don't  take  all  these  different  kinds  of 
dope  for  your  headaches,"  I  thought  with  a  quick 
little  feeling  of  contempt,  for  I  don't  have  much  pa- 
tience with  the  headache-powder  habit.  I  learned 
this  contempt  from  Alfred,  of  course. 

Mr.  Maxwell  was  alone  in  the  library  when  I  re- 
turned and  told  me  that  Sophie  had  gone  to  get  a 
glass  of  hot  water. 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  267 

"She  says  that  is  all  she  ever  takes  for  these  spells 
of  neuralgia,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  for  the 
bag,  when  I  explained  to  him  about  the  fastening. 
"But  there  is  a  little  bottle  of  something  or  other 
in  here  that  she  rubs  on  her  forehead — and  that 
eases  the  pain." 

"Then  why  on  earth  didn't  she  rub  it  on  early 
this  morning?"  I  inquired  wonderingly. 

"That's  what  I  asked  her,"  he  answered  with  a 
slight  laugh,  "but  she  says  that  the  stuff  burns  the 
skin  and  leaves  a  red  mark ;  and  she  didn't  want  to 
be  disfigured  for  the  ball — I  told  her  that  she  would 
have  looked  just  the  same  to  me — red  mark  or  no 
red  mark." 

He  was  smiling  good-naturedly  as  he  worked  with 
the  lock  of  the  bag,  which  after  a  moment  or  two 
came  open  with  a  lamb-like  docility.  He  was  walk- 
ing across  the  room  to  deposit  it  upon  the  table  when 
Sophie  came  in  and  saw  him  with  the  bag  opened  in 
his  hand.  She  gave  a  little  startled  exclamation  and 
we  both  wheeled  and  faced  her. 

"That's  the  wrong  bag,"  she  said,  speaking  with 
such  nervous  haste  and  her  face  wearing  such  a 
white,  scared  look  that  we  both  instinctively  glanced 
into  the  open  case  Mr.  Maxwell  held  in  his  hands. 


268  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"Don't!  There's  something  in  there  that  I  don't 
want  you  to  see !" 

Poor  girl,  if  it  had  been  a  dynamite  bomb  or  a 
counterfeiter's  kit  of  tools,  she  could  scarcely  have 
looked  more  frightened,  for  Mr.  Maxwell  and  I 
had  already  seen  the  contents.  His  face  suddenly 
went  white,  too,  as  he  quickly  strode  across  the  room 
and  laid  the  bag  upon  the  table. 

"This  is  likely  the  thing  you  didn't  want  us  to 
see,"  he  exclaimed,  reaching  in  and  holding  up  to  the 
light  a  glittering  little  object.  It  was  a  hypodermic 
syringe ! 

When  she  saw  the  silvery-looking  instrument  actu- 
ally in  his  hand  and  observed  the  stern,  harsh  look 
in  his  eyes  she  gave  a  wild,  hysterical  laugh  and 
walked  quickly  across  to  him.  She  clutched  the 
shining  thing  from  his  hand  and  held  it  up  before 
me. 

"Now  you  both  know  the  'disgraceful  secret' 
which  Aunt  Ida  has  made  me  keep  so  securely  locked 
away  from  you,"  she  cried,  holding  the  instrument  in 
her  hand  and  pulling  the  piston  backward  and  for- 
ward with  a  deftness  born  of  long  familiarity.  "She 
made  me  promise  to  keep  it  a  secret,  for  she  said  that 
if  her  'society'  friends  knew  of  it  I  should  be  consid- 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  269 

ered  beyond  the  pale.  Heavens  knows  that  I  am 
sorry  for  it  and  ashamed  of  it,  but  there  was  a 
mighty — temptation. " 

She  sat  down  in  the  nearest  chair  and  began  to 
cry,  her  face  buried  in  her  folded  arms,  and  her 
shoulders  heaving  convulsively.  I  went  over  quickly 
and  laid  my  hand  upon  her  head. 

"Don't  cry,  Sophie !"  I  begged,  "it  will  make  your 
head  worse;  and — this  doesn't  make  the  slightest 
difference  in  our  feeling  for  you.  We  are  not  'so- 
ciety,' are  we,  Mr.  Maxwell?" 

I  glanced  appealingly  toward  him,  but  he  did  not 
see  me.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Sophie's  bowed 
head  with  a  pitying,  yet  horrified  stare,  then  the  look 
of  bewilderment  which  he  wore  at  the  first  sight  of 
her  came  over  his  face,  painfully  intensified  this 
time. 

"My  God !"  he  finally  broke  out,  and  I  knew  that 
he  did  not  know  he  was  speaking  aloud.  "I  have 
seen  you  before  to-night  with  that  thing  in  your 
hand!  I  can  even  feel  its  sharp  little  sting  in  my 
arm — but  where — where — I  can't  remember." 

At  his  queer  words  Sophie  looked  quickly  up,  but 
he  had  already  turned  his  back  to  us  two  and  was 
leaving  the  room.  We  heard  him  linger  a  moment  in 


270  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

the  hall  as  if  he  might  be  looking  for  his  hat;  then 
the  big  front  door  closed  behind  him. 

"He  still  doesn't  remember!"  she  said  slowly, 
looking  at  me  in  surprise.  "I  thought  he  would.  I 
don't  imagine  that  he  has  had  much  experience  with 
trained  nurses,  so  I  fancied  it  would  all  come  back 
to  him  when  he  found  that  I  was  one." 

"You  took  care  of  him  when  his  head  was  hurt 
last  year?" 

"Yes.  I  nursed  him  from  the  night  he  was 
brought  into  the  hospital  until  he  was  almost  out  of 
danger — it  was  a  long,  tedious  case,  and  we  thought 
for  a  while  that  we  were  not  going  to  save  him." 

"And  you  really  were  telling  some  child  about  the 
little  pigs  going  to  market  one  night  when  he  heard 
you?"  I  asked,  thinking  how  much  stranger  than 
fiction  this  case  was. 

"Yes.  That  was  after  he  was  beginning  to  be  bet- 
ter, but  I  was  still  his  'special.'  The  baby's  cot  had 
been  moved  out  into  the  corridor  just  beyond  his 
door — it  was  so  hot — and  I  used  to  slip  out  there 
occasionally  and  get  the  little  fellow  to  sleep.  But 
I  came  down  with  malarial  fever  myself  before 
Mr.  Maxwell  was  entirely  well.  That's  the  reason 
his  memory  of  me  is  so  hazy." 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  271 

"Then  why  didn't  you  tell  him  plainly — when  you 
first  met  him  here  and  saw  that  he  remembered 
you?"  I  asked  as  she  got  up  and  opened  the  bag 
wider  to  try  to  find  the  bottle  of  medicine  she 
wanted,  for  her  hand  went  to  her  head  in  a  manner 
which  told  me  that  all  this  excitement  had  in  nowise 
lessened  the  pain. 

"That's  what  I  am  so  sorry  for  and  ashamed  of," 
she  answered  simply,  as  she  lifted  some  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  bag  out  and  placed  them  upon  the  table. 
"I  shouldn't  have  stayed  here  an  hour  after  Aunt  Ida 
told  me  I  must  sail  under  false  covers,  but — I  said  a 
while  ago,  in  my  excitement,  that  there  was  a  mighty 
temptation!  I  didn't  intend  to  say  it,  but — it  is 
true." 

"And  the  temptation  was — " 

We  heard  the  front  door  open  then  and  close 
again  softly.  Mr.  Maxwell  had  finished  his  walk  out 
in  the  cool  night  air.  I  hoped  that  he  would  come 
on  back  into  the  library  as  he  heard  our  voices,  but 
he  passed  the  door  and  in  another  moment  we  heard 
his  footsteps  on  the  stairs. 

"They  told  me  that  he  was  coming,"  Sophie  said. 

Four  days  have  passed   since  the  night  of  the 


272  AT   THE  AGE  OF   EVE 

Thanksgiving  ball ;  and  at  a  house-party  where  four 
days  drag  there  is  a  greater  sense  of  calamity  than 
would  be  caused  by  a  dreary  four  weeks  at  some 
other  time.  For  there  is  always  the  tormenting 
thought  of  how  much  hay  one  might  have  been  piling 
up  if  the  sun  would  only  shine. 

Here  are  the  three  of  us — Evelyn,  Sophie  and  I — 
all  at  the  age  of  Eve ;  and  all  enduring  such  a  period 
of  gloom  that  I  feel  sure  if  the  original  Eve  had 
been  half  as  badly  bored  she  would  never  have 
waited  for  a  pretty  snake  to  come  along  and  amuse 
her — she  would  have  started  up  a  flirtation  with  a 
grub-worm! 

Richard  is  still  away  and  I  have  not  even  had 
a  line  from  him.  Neither  has  any  one  else  on 
the  place,  of  course,  but  his  name  appeared  in 
the  society  columns  of  the  Times  the  day  after 
Thanksgiving.  He  had  attended  the  football  game 
that  afternoon  with  Major  Blake's  party,  the  paper 
stated — and  alas!  I  was  in  no  position  to  dispute 
the  statement. 

Now  if  there  is  one  thing  a  girl  hates  worse  than 
having  her  rat  show  in  the  presence  of  her  beloved 
it  is  to  have  that  beloved's  name  appear  in  a  society 
column  when  her  own  is  not  in  the  same  line ! 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  273 

"Why  the  Blakes?"  I  kept  wondering  uneasily, 
as  I  read  over  the  hateful  paragraph  again  and 
again;  and  I  tried  to  fight  down  the  fierce  feeling 
of  jealousy  which  took  possession  of  me.  "Why 
couldn't  he  have  gone  to  the  foot-ball  game  with 
some  one  else — or  why  couldn't  he  have  come 
home?" 

I  found  upon  this  occasion  that  jealousy  is  a  pas- 
sion which  makes  me  physically  ill,  and  I  thought 
quickly  of  how  tormented  Richard  must  be  by  his 
jealous  disposition.  I  wondered  if  he  had  ever  felt 
the  quick  desire  to  strangle  Alfred  Morgan  that  I 
now  caught  myself  feeling  to  annihilate  the  entire 
Blake  faction.  They  had  no  right  to  make  Richard 
leave  home  upon  such  an  occasion  as  this;  or  they 
should  have  finished  their  hateful  business  and  sent 
him  on  back  home  for  Thanksgiving.  They  cer- 
tainly had  no  right  to  take  him  off  with  them  to  a 
foot-ball  game  for  all  the  world  to  see — and  have 
his  name  with  theirs  in  the  paper  next  morning. 

"Major  Blake  had  with  him  in  his  car,  besides 
Mrs.  Blake,  Miss  Berenice  Blake,  who  returned  last 
week  from  Denver,  and  Mr.  Richard  Chalmers." 

I  knew  the  horrid  words  by  heart,  yet  I  read  them 
over  and  over.  And  even  this  was  not  the  worst. 


274  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

On  the  front  page  of  the  Times  was  a  cartoon  repre- 
senting Major  Blake  seated  beside  a  little  creek, 
angling  persistently  for  a  fish  in  midstream — a  fish 
with  Richard's  handsome  head  and  "Chalmers" 
printed  in  big  letters  across  the  side.  The  bait  was 
a  bag  of  gold  and  a  handful  of  glory;  and  beneath 
it  was  written  "Little  fishie  in  the  brook,  can  daddy 
catch  him  with  a  hook?" 

Such  a  cartoon  in  Rufe's  paper  struck  me  as  be- 
ing pregnant  with  meaning.  What  did  it  portend? 
Why  did  Richard  leave  home  at  this  time  to 
spend  Thanksgiving  with  old  man  Blake  if  it  did 
not  mean  that  he  was  entangled  with  him?  How 
deeply  entangled — and  for  what  ?  Major  Blake  had 
some  time  ago  given  the  anti-liquor  forces  to  under- 
stand that  they  had  not  money  enough  for  their  cam- 
paign to  make  a  union  with  them  interesting  to  him. 
But  the  Appleton  followers  had  been  equally  unsuc- 
cessful in  trying  to  gain  his  support.  Could  it  be 
that  he  and  Richard  intended  forming  a  separate 
faction  where  his  own  personal  popularity  should 
cut  a  tremendous  figure  in  gaining  for  him  what  he 
wanted,  and  he  could  have  the  backing  of  Richard's 
friends  among  the  temperance  forces?  But  where 
would  Richard  come  in  then  ?  Whv  should  old  man 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  275 

Blake  give  all  the  biggest  portion  of  the  plum  to 
Richard,  when  he  had  never  been  governor  himself  ? 

I  thought  over  the  matter  and  thought — until  I 
grew  dizzy  with  the  problem,  yet  I  never  found  any- 
thing that  could  serve  even  as  a  half-way  solution. 
But  enough  of  my  own  grievances. 

As  I  have  said,  Sophie  and  Evelyn  are  both  miser- 
able, too,  though  in  entirely  different  ways.  Evelyn 
is  half  ill,  with  a  constantly  threatening  pain  in  her 
right  side — a  trouble  which  she  has  had  for  several 
years — and  Sophie,  poor  girl,  has  stayed  in  her  room 
most  of  the  time  because  she  is  so  disappointed  in 
the  way  Mr.  Maxwell  has  acted  since  he  learned  that 
she  is  a  working-woman.  Horrid  cad!  He  has 
watched  Sophie  every  minute  she  has  been  in  his 
presence  since  that  night,  looking  as  if  he  were  a  de- 
tective and  suspected  her  of  carrying  concealed 
weapons  about  her.  Yet  all  the  time  there  is  a  look 
of  dumb  misery  in  his  eyes — sorrow  and  incredulity. 

He  has  several  times  tried  to  get  me  off  alone 
where  he  could  talk  to  me  of  the  occurrence  Thanks- 
giving night,  but  I  have  been  careful  to  avoid  him, 
for  I  am  as  much  disappointed  in  him  as  Sophie  is. 
Each  of  them  has  tried  to  leave,  but  Mrs.  Chalmers 
has  insisted  upon  their  not  doing  so.  She  is  so  upset 


2;6  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

over  Evelyn  that  she  needs  Sophie's  skilled  advice 
in  nursing,  although  no  open  acknowledgment  of 
the  matter  has  been  made.  And  she  has  insisted  that 
Mr.  Maxwell  remain  at  least  until  Richard  returns. 
Meanwhile  she  has  tried  to  get  a  message  through 
to  Richard  in  the  city,  but  she  has  been  so  far  un- 
able to  find  him.  Altogether  it  is  rather  a  miserable 
household. 

Another  day ;  and  it  started  so  well  and  ended  so 
queerly  that  I  am  not  going  to  try  to  sleep  for  hours 
yet — until  I  have  written  the  whole  thing  out  so  I 
can  read  it  over  and  see  whether  or  not  it  really 
happened,  for  I  find  it  so  hard  to  believe. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  Richard  called  up  from 
the  city  this  morning  and  explained  to  his  mother 
that  he  had  been  on  a  business  trip  down  in  the  coun- 
try— far  away  from  a  telephone  station,  he  said, 
and  so  he  had  not  been  able  to  communicate  with 
her.  He  asked  her  to  call  me  to  the  telephone  and 
we  had  as  satisfying  a  little  talk  as  people  in  our 
position  ever  have  over  wires.  He  would  be  down 
home  on  the  first  train  in  the  morning,  he  told  me, 
and  he  insisted  that  I  tell  him  something  he  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  bringing  me. 


SOPHIE'S   STORY  277 

"Oh,  I'll  excuse  the  olive  branch,"  I  replied  in  an- 
swer to  this  question,  "for  I'll  be  so  glad  to  see 
you." 

Glad  to  see  him?  Ah  yes,  so  glad!  And  in  the 
joy  of  the  thought  I  forgot  all  about  being  jealous 
of  the  Blakes.  With  this  restoration  of  happiness 
the  day  naturally  passed  more  quickly  to  me,  and  I 
found  myself  wondering  why  Evelyn  didn't  get 
over  that  hurting  in  her  side,  and  why  Mrs.  Chal- 
mers still  looked  so  anxious  and  why  Sophie  and 
Mr.  Maxwell  continued  to  eye  each  other  so  re- 
proachfully when  the  one  thought  the  other  was  not 
looking.  Richard  was  coming  home  in  the  morning ! 
Surely  all  would  be  well  then ! 

Dinner  was  a  dismal  affair,  for  Evelyn  was  not 
any  better — was  not  so  well,  Mrs.  Chalmers  said, 
with  a  look  of  great  anxiety,  although  the  doctor 
had  not  said  positively  what  the  trouble  was.  As 
soon  as  we  had  left  the  table  Sophie  followed  Mrs. 
Chalmers  to  Evelyn's  room,  thus  leaving  Mr.  Max- 
well to  a  tete-a-tete  evening  with  me. 

There  was  a  brilliant  fire  in  the  library  and  we 
both  were  attracted  toward  its  cheer  as  we  crossed 
the  hall.  He  lit  a  cigarette  and  sat  staring  moodily 
at  the  little  clouds  of  smoke  which  he  puffed  into 


278  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

the  air.  Clearly  he  was  not  going  to  thrust  conver- 
sation upon  me.  To  make  sure  that  he  should  have 
no  encouragement  to  do  so  I  began  looking  around 
vaguely  for  something  to  read.  There  was  a  pile 
of  fresh  papers  which  had  come  by  the  night's  train 
lying  folded  on  the  table,  but  I  have  had  little  appe- 
tite for  newspapers  since  the  day  of  the  fishy  car- 
toon. I  should  not  read  any  more  of  the  horrid 
tales  about  him,  but  he  should  tell  me  all  that  there 
was  to  tell  and  I  would  believe  him.  But  not  a  ques- 
tion did  I  expect  to  ask.  His  confidence  should  be 
entirely  voluntary  or  not  given  at  all. 
:  No  newspapers  for  me  then  this  night ;  and  I 
glanced  around  the  room  for  something  else.  Some- 
thing forbidding-looking  and  very  deep  I  decided 
on  as  being  best  to  keep  Mr.  Maxwell's  conversa- 
tional powers  in  abeyance.  I  went  to  one  of  the 
book-shelves  which  lined  the  walls.  Running  my 
hand  along  a  line  of  Huxley's  works  I  came  to 
Science  and  the  Christian  Tradition  and  promptly 
decided  that  this  was  the  very  volume  I  needed  to 
impress  Mr.  Maxwell  that  I  was  reading  something 
very  profound  and  needed  all  my  wits  about  me. 

Returning  to  my  chair  by  the  fire  I  sat  down 
and  opened  my  book,  but  I  was  in  nowise  clisap- 


SOPHIE'S   STORY  279 

pointed  by  finding  that  the  leaves  had  never  been 
cut.  There  was  a  heavy  pearl-and-silver  paper-cutter 
lying  on  the  table  near  by,  but  I  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  reach  for  it.  What  did  I  care  for  a  lot 
of  prehistoric  teeth  and  toe-nails  dug  up  and  brought 
forward  to  prove  that  before  "Adam  delved  and 
Eve  span"  the  baboon  was  a  gentleman? 

Mr.  Maxwell  continued  to  stare  into  the  fire, 
and  I  do  not  believe  he  ever  glanced  at  the  impres- 
sive three-quarters  morocco  binding  I  was  holding 
up  so  persistently  for  him  to  see.  After  half-an-hour 
had  been  thus  profitlessly  spent  I  grew  tired  and 
decided  that  I  would  go  to  my  room  and  go  to  bed. 
Morning  would  come  the  more  quickly  this  way. 

As  I  started  to  cross  the  room  to  replace  the  book 
in  its  niche  I  heard  Mrs.  Chalmers  going  up  the  steps 
again — it  seemed  to  me  fully  fifty  times  that  even- 
ing she  had  made  pilgrimages  up  and  down  those 
stairs  on  her  way  to  and  from  the  invalid's  room. 

"Evelyn  must  be  worse,"  I  said  aloud  before  I  re- 
membered that  I  was  trying  not  to  start  conversa- 
tion. 

"Possibly  so,"  he  answered  politely. 

"I  believe  I'll  go  now  and  see  if  I  can  do  anything 
to  help  Mrs.  Chalmers;  she  must  be  worn  out." 


28o  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

I  put  the  Huxley  back  where  he  belonged  and  had 
turned  again  to  wish  Mr.  Maxwell  good  night,  when 
I  found  that  he  had  at  last  unfastened  his  eyes  from 
the  bright  fire  and  was  looking  toward  me  appeal- 
ingly. 

"Miss  Fielding,"  he  began  with  an  unwonted 
timidity. 

I  had  already  opened  the  door  to  leave  the  room, 
but  I  came  back  a  few  steps,  leaving  the  door  wide 
open;  and  as  I  did  so  I  heard,  for  the  fifty-first  time, 
the  sound  of  Mrs.  Chalmers'  footfalls  upon  the 
stairs.  She  was  coming  down  this  time. 

"Yes?"  I  said  coldly  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Max- 
well. 

"Miss  Fielding,  I  am  going  away  in  the  morning," 
he  said  rather  awkwardly,  as  he  pushed  up  a  chair 
for  me  again,  but  I  did- not  sit  down.  I  leaned  over 
a  little  and  rested  my  elbows  against  its  high  leather 
back.  He  stood  upon  the  hearth-rug,  and  even  the 
shaded  lights  of  the  room  brought  out  the  troubled 
lines  on  his  face.  "I  am  going  away  on  the  same 
train  that  brings  Chalmers  home,"  he  repeated. 

"Yes." 

"And  I  was  anxious  to  talk  with  you  a  little  be- 
fore I  go/'  he  went  on  with  considerable  hesitation. 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  281 

My  attitude  was  far  from  being  encouraging.  "You 
seem  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  her  still — with 
Sophie,  I  mean." 

"I  am  on  friendly  terms,"  I  said  rather  pointedly. 
"I  am  fortunately  not  the  kind  of  person  who  in- 
dulges in  seeming  friendship." 

"Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Fielding,  don't  rub  it  in  on  a  fel- 
low !  Don't  you  see  that  I  have  been  half  crazy  ever 
since  I  found  it  out?  Surely  you  don't  think  that 
the  matter  hasn't  made  me  feel  worse  cut  up  than 
anything  that  ever  happened  to  me  before !  A  man 
doesn't  get  over  a  shock  like  that!" 

"Shock?" 

"Certainly  shock,"  he  repeated  earnestly.  "If  she 
had  told  me  she  is  a  horse-thief  I  couldn't  have  felt 
worse.  Of  course  a  man  could  keep  up  a  sort  of 
pitying  friendliness  after  such  an  acknowledgment 
as  that,  but — I  had  intended  asking  her  that  night  to 
marry  me." 

He  looked  at  me  as  if  he  might  be  beseeching  me  to 
speak  a  word  of  comfort  to  him,  but  I  stood  there 
and  said  nothing. 

"Miss  Fielding,  surely  you  understand  that  I 
couldn't  marry  a  woman  who,  by  her  own  acknowl- 
edgment, is  a — a  dope-fiend." 


282  AT   THE   AGE  OF   EVE 

"Dope-fiend !"  I  gave  a  little  shriek. 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment  as  if  he  thought  I  had 
lost  my  mind,  then  we  were  both  startled  by  the  ab- 
rupt entrance  of  Mrs.  Chalmers  at  the  door  which  I 
had  a  few  minutes  before  left  open.  She  had  evi- 
dently heard  my  horrified  exclamation  and  come  in  to 
investigate.  She  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us 
inquiringly,  and  there  was  no  use  trying  to  hide  the 
situation  from  her. 

"Miss  Fielding  and  I  were  talking  about  Sophie, 
Mrs.  Chalmers,"  Mr.  Maxwell  explained  after  a  mo- 
ment of  painful  silence.  "She  acknowledged  to  us, 
Miss  Fielding  and  me,  the  other  night  the — the  truth 
about  this  unhappy  condition." 

"The  truth?"  Mrs.  Chalmers'  tone  was  question- 
ing, although  I  knew  that  she  must  have  heard  my 
startled  cry  as  I  repeated  the  hideous  word  he  had 
used  a  moment  before. 

"It  was  the  night  that  we  stayed  away  from  the 
ball — we  three — and  we  found  the  evidence  in  her 
bag.  She  acknowledged  that  it  was  true.  I  had  ex- 
pected to  ask  her  to  marry  me  that  night — but  she  is 
a  drug-fiend." 

Mrs.  Chalmers  started,  but  she  did  not  speak.  She 
made  no  effort  to  correct  him. 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  283 

"So  of  course  I  am  leaving  in  the  morning.  I 
should  have  gone  long  ago,  but — " 

He  looked  at  Richard's  mother,  who  stood  in  the 
center  of  the  room,  directly  beneath  the  chandelier. 
The  light  shone  down  on  her  soft  white  hair  and 
changed  it  into  a  veritable  crown  of  glory.  She 
moved  her  crown  slightly  as  she  nodded  an  assent 
to  his  suggestion  of  leaving  in  the  morning,  but  she 
did  not  lift  a  finger  to  detain  him,  nor  to  set  him 
right  in  regard  to  Sophie.  Could  it  be  that  her  de- 
sire to  get  Evelyn  married  off  to  him  was  going  to 
carry  her  to  such  lengths  as  this?  It  seemed  so; 
and  I  caught  myself  wondering  quickly  if  in  so  do- 
ing she  might  be  carrying  out  a  command  of  Rich- 
ard's. Likely  he  was  very  positive  in  bidding  her 
keep  Sophie's  secret,  or  in  impressing  it  upon  her 
that  Evelyn  ought  to  be  suitably  married.  In  either 
case  she  would  be  mortally  afraid  to  speak — she 
would  not  speak.  Then  quickly  upon  the  heels  of 
this  came  the  knowledge  that  if  she  did  not  speak 
it  was  my  place  to  da  so,  for  I  knew  the  truth  as 
well  as  she  did — but  it  might  make  Richard  angry ! 
It  would  be  sure  to  if  he  had  given  commands  that 
the  secret  should  be  kept!  I  might  even  lose  him — > 

"That  train  leaves  at  six-thirty,  I  believe?" 


284  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

Again  he  looked  at  Mrs.  Chalmers  and  she  again 
nodded  her  head.  But  she  did  not  speak. 

"Then  I  shall  not  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
you  in  the  morning,"  and  he  walked  over  and 
shook  hands  with  his  hostess,  making  his  adieus  in 
a  wretchedly  forced  way. 

She  shook  hands  with  him  and  allowed  him  to 
pass  on  to  me.  I  gave  him  my  hand  in  a  mechanical 
fashion,  and  my  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Mrs.  Chal- 
mers' face.  She  was  evidently  frightened  at  the 
thought  of  the  thing  she  was  doing ;  but  she  was  just 
as  evidently  going  to  see  it  through. 

"Good-by,  Miss  Fielding,"  Mr.  Maxwell  said  sim- 
ply, then  turned  toward  the  door. 

I  was  still  looking  at  her  as  I  heard  the  sound  of 
his  hand  upon  the  door-knob,  but  as  I  realized  in 
that  instant  that  he  was  really  going  and  that  neither 
of  us  had  lifted  a  finger  to  set  him  right,  a  sudden 
power  over  which  it  seemed  that  I  had  no  control 
came  and  caught  me,  almost  physically  forcing  me 
out  of  my  place.  I  ran  across  the  room. 

"Mr.  Maxwell !"  I  called. 

He  came  back  a  few  steps  and  stood  facing  us. 

"You  were  leaving — that  is,  we  were  about  to  let 
you  leave — under  a  false  impression,"  I  stammered 


SOPHIE'S    STORY  285 

breathlessly,  all  the  time  a  sense  of  my  doing  some- 
thing very  much  out  of  place  strong  upon  me. 

"False  impression?"  His  eyes  were  glittering 
feverishly. 

"Yes.  It  is  true  that  we  found  the — the  thing  you 
mentioned  in  Sophie's  bag  that  night,  but  she  is  no 
— dope-fiend." 

He  stood  still  as  if  he  were  petrified. 

"Physicians  carry  those  things  in  instrument 
cases,"  I  went  on,  feeling  that  my  explanation 
sounded  very  tame  and  inadequate.  "Physicians 
carry  them  and  so  do  nurses." 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment  in  utter  bewilderment, 
then,  slowly,  comprehension  dawned  in  his  eyes. 
Even  the  understanding  was  going  to  be  bitter  to 
him,  for  there  would  be  the  humiliating  confession 
that  he  would  have  to  make  to  her  that  he  had  mis- 
judged her. 

As  I  said  the  word  "nurses"  Mrs.  Chalmers 
moved  a  step  forward  and  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

"Ann,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  frightened  whisper, 
"Richard  said  that  this  affair  was  not  to  be  men- 
tioned." 

"A  professional  nurse!"  Mr.  Maxwell  cried,  his 
face  lighting  up  as  a  hundred  hazy  memories  came 


286  AT   THE  AGE  OF  EVE 

flooding  over  him.  "In  El  Paso — my  God!  Of 
course!" 

He  came  up  to  me  and  caught  my  arm. 

"This  is  what  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Chalmers'  eyes  were  fixed  on  me  in  a  kind 
of  fascinated  wonder.  How  could  any  one  go 
against  Richard's  expressed  wish?  But  my  own 
eyes  were  meeting  hers  steadily  as  I  turned  to  an- 
swer Mr.  Maxwell's  pleading  question. 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean.  Sophie  belongs  to  the 
great  army  of  the  Red  Cross!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  DOUGLAS  IN  HIS  HALL 

AS  is  frequently  the  case  when  I  have  gone  to 
bed  late  and  in  a  perturbed  state  of  mind,  I 
awake  early,  with  a  heavy  feeling  between  my  eyes 
and  a  marked  distaste  to  getting  up.  It  was  so  this 
morning,  except  I  had  an  indistinct  impression  that, 
instead  of  waking  normally,  I  had  been  awakened 
by  some  unusual  noise. 

I  turned  over  in  bed  and  looked  around  the  room 
for  a  few  minutes  before  I  began  to  think  of  the  ef- 
fort of  getting  up.  I  had  by  no  means  forgotten 
that  Richard  was  coming — might  already  be  here,  as 
the  spasmodic  bursts  of  sunshine  indicated  that  it 
was  at  least  seven  o'clock — but  he  would  not  expect 
me  to  do  anything  so  unusual  as  to  dress  this  early 
and  meet  him  down-stairs  for  a  few  minutes'  stolen 
happiness  before  we  should  meet  and  shake  hands 
formally  at  the  breakfast  table.  The  bliss  of  such 
a  secret  little  reunion  might,  doubtless  would,  ap- 

287 


288  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

peal  to  most  lovers,  but  not  to  Cceur  de  Lion.  He 
would  see  in  it  only  the  impropriety  of  a  young 
woman  meeting  a  man  in  a  deserted  library  in  the 
early  hours  of  the  morning.  Richard  has  this  way 
of  throwing — well,  not  exactly  cold  water,  but  iced 
lemonade,  over  the  exuberance  of  my  youthful  feel- 
ings! I  wish  this  were  not  so,  but — 

I  looked  around  the  beautiful,  befrilled  bedroom, 
with  its  handsome  furniture  of  Circassian  walnut 
and  its  dainty  blue  silk  hangings — and  I  thought, 
with  a  quick  little  pang  of  longing,  of  my  severely 
plain  sleeping  apartment  at  home.  This  Spartan 
bareness  is  in  imitation  of  Alfred's  cell-like  bed- 
room, which  Ann  Lisbeth  had  once  shown  me,  and 
which  had  attracted  me  by  the  air  of  wholesomeness 
the  immaculate  cleanliness  gave  it.  Alfred  and  I 
have  often  planned  a  house  so  plain  and  sanitary 
that  we  could  turn  the  hose  all  through  it.  House- 
keeping would  be  a  delightfully  simple  affair  with 
him,  for  he  and  I  agree  so  perfectly  in  our  dislike 
of  complicated  things.  Dear  me!  I  wonder  what 
kind  of  house  Richard  and  I  will  keep?  It  will  be — 
expensive,  but  will  it  be  harmonious? 

The  events  of  last  night  came  crowding  before 
me  and  I  remembered  with  a  most  disagreeable  little 


THE    DOUGLAS    IN    HIS    HALL    289 

chill  that  Mrs.  Chalmers'  eye  had  held  a  look  of  ter- 
ror as  she  thought  of  Richard's  commands  being  dis- 
obeyed. Was  Richard  a  monster  then  ?  Did  he  eat 
people  when  they  dared  to  go  contrary  to  his 
wishes?  I  also  recalled  the  day  he  and  I  had  had 
our  first  actual  quarrel — about  the  volume  of  Byron 
which  Alfred  had  given  me.  His  eyes  grow  very 
cold  and  glittering  when  he  is  angry,  and — yes,  I 
can  understand  that  a  certain  class  of  women  might 
be  very  much  afraid  of  him.  Especially  if  they  had 
him  to  live  with!  And  I  wondered  if,  at  last,  after 
months  of  struggling,  I,  too,  might  not  find  it  more 
restful  and  peaceable  to  become  a  groveling  sort  of 
hypocrite  to  my  lord  and  master? 

"Never,  never!"  I  cried  aloud,  jumping  out  of  bed 
as  I  heard  again  the  same  sounds  which  had  awak- 
ened me — hurrying  footsteps  down-stairs  through 
the  halls,  and  the  sound  of  many  doors  being  hastily 
opened  and  closed.  "I'll  give  him  up  if  I  find  him 
as  they  say  he  is." 

Just  then  I  recognized  the  heavy,  dignified  slam 
of  the  massive  front  door,  a  kind  of  muffled  protest 
against  the  impertinence  of  using  haste  with  such 
an  august  portion  of  that  house ;  then,  a  moment 
after,  there  was  the  sound  of  an  automobile  starting. 


290  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"Evelyn  must  be  much  worse,"  I  thought  uneasily, 
as  I  hurried  through  with  my  bath  and  slipped  into 
my  clothes.  If  this  were  so  I  knew  that  I  should 
not  have  to  meet  Mrs.  Chalmers  at  the  breakfast 
table,  and  I  should  be  relieved  of  the  ordeal  .of  com- 
ing in  contact  with  her  bland  smile.  I  instinctively 
felt  that  she  would  meet  us  all  exactly  as  if  nothing 
had  happened  the  night  before.  She  is  entirely  too 
well-bred  to  bear  malice. 

Now,  for  my  part,  I  have  a  nervous  distaste  to 
whited  sepulchers,  aside  from  any  question  of  mor- 
ality, and  I  always  have  a  sense  of  being  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  rottenness  and  dead  men's 
bones  whenever  I  am  forced  to  smooth  over  a  situ- 
ation which  has  not  been  thoroughly  explained  and 
threshed  out.  When  I  have  a  grievance  against  any 
one,  my  first  desire  is  to  "have  it  out"  with  the  of- 
fender, and  I  -always  want  any  one  whom  I  have 
offended  to  offer  me  the  same  privilege  of  setting 
myself  straight. 

But  Mrs.  Chalmers  would,  I  know,  sit  for  ever  at 
the  mouth  of  such  whited  sepulcher  with  a  bottle  of 
vera-violet  held  to  her  nose  before  she  would  face 
anybody  in  helping  to  rid  the  place  of  its  pestilence. 

These  thoughts  were  running  through  my  mind  as 


2QI 

I  was  dressing,  and  I  will  say  that  I  had  the  grace  to 
feel  ashamed  of  them  as  I  ran  down  the  steps  and 
met  her  in  the  hall,  her  face  looking  old  and  drawn 
with  anxiety,  her  hair  in  disarray,  and  her  figure  en- 
veloped in  a  fantastic  kimono. 

"Evelyn  is  very  much  worse,"  she  said  in  a  trem- 
bling voice  as  I  came  up  with  her  and  inquired  after 
the  patient.  "It  is  an^acute  attack  of  appendicitis 
and  Doctor  Cooley  has  just  telephoned  to  the  city 
for  Doctor  Gordon  to  come  out  on  the  first  train. 
He  says — she  can't — live  without  an  operation ;  and, 
even  so,  he  is  very  much  afraid  that  it — the  appen- 
dix— has  ruptured." 

She  broke  down  here  and  sobbed  miserably,  bury- 
ing her  face  in  her  hands  and  -wiping  away  the  tears 
upon  one  long  silken  sleeve  of  her  flowered  kimono. 

"Evelyn  is  all  I  have  in  this  world,"  she  moaned, 
and  I  suddenly  felt  infinitely  sorry  for  her — and 
forgiving.  "She  is  all  I  have  to  comfort  me  in  my 
miserable  life,  and  now  Richard  has  come  home  and 
blames  this  trouble  on  me." 

"Blames  you?"  I  questioned,  looking  down  upon 
her  disordered  hair  in  amazement  at  the  thought. 

"He  says  that  I  ought  to  have  known  better  than 
to  let  her  dance  so  much  the  other  night,"  she  ex- 


292  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

plained,  lifting  a  tear-stained  face  to  me  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  to  acknowledge  the  sympathy  in  my 
voice.  Clearly  she  was  not  accustomed  to  sympathy. 

"Dance !"  I  said  again  in  surprise.  "Why,  people 
have  appendicitis  who  have  never  seen  inside  a 
ball-room !  That  is  a  most  absurd  idea." 

"Not  nearly  so  absurd  as  some  things  he  hatches 
up  against  us  two,"  she  broke  out,  her  anger  toward 
Richard  making  her  forget,  for  a  moment,  her  anx- 
iety for  Evelyn.  "Oh,  Ann,  he  leads  us  such  a  life! 
He  is  exactly  like  his  father — and  he  was  a  despot!'* 

We  were  interrupted  by  the  quick  footsteps  of 
Sophie,  as  she  came  hurrying  through  the  hall.  She 
had  an  ice-cap  in  her  hand,  and  there  was  a  ther- 
mometer-case thrust  through  her  belt.  There  was 
no  trained  nurse  in  Charlotteville,  so  she  had  quietly 
explained  to  Doctor  Cooley  her  qualifications  to 
act  in  that  capacity.  Mrs.  Chalmers  whispered  this 
to  me,  as  Sophie  passed  by ;  also  that  Mr.  Maxwell 
had  left  on  the  same  train  that  brought  Richard, 
but  not  before  he  and  Sophie  had  spent  a  long  hour 
together  in  the  quiet  library. 

"She  was  up  nearly  all  night,"  Mrs.  Chalmers 
said,  "so  they  came  face  to  face  here  in  the  hall  at 
daybreak.  She  is  a  good  girl,  and  he  will  make  her 


THE   DOUGLAS    IN    HIS    HALL     293 

happy.  I  am  glad  they  have  come  to  an  understand- 
ing." 

"But  I  thought — "  I  began,  then  stopped,  not 
knowing  how  to  express  my  idea  about  her  plans 
for  Mr.  Maxwell  and  Evelyn ;  but  she  read  my  mind. 

"You  thought  I  wanted  to  catch  him  for  Evelyn  ?" 
she  asked  without  embarrassment.  "Well,  I  did,  but 
I  shouldn't  have  gone  to  such  lengths,  except  for  the 
sake  of  keeping  Richard  in  a  good  humor." 

"Then  he'll  be  in  a  very  bad  humor  with  me  when 
he  hears  that  I  was  the  one  who  told  about  Sophie," 
I  suggested,  but  she  cut  me  short. 

"Oh,  he's  in  such  a  fiendish  humor  about  some- 
thing that  happened  to  him  on  this  trip  of  his  that 
he  will  forget  all  about  these  things  here  at  home." 

"Is  there  some  sort  of  political  trouble?"  I  asked 
anxiously,  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"Richard  never  mentions  his  business  affairs  to 
us,"  she  said,  as  she  smoothed  down  her  kimono  and 
followed  Sophie  up  the  stairs. 

Half  an  hour  later  Richard  met  me  at  the  door  of 
the  breakfast-room,  looking  very  tired  and  morose. 
We  sat  down  and  ate  breakfast  in  unchaperoned 
gloom.  He  asked  me  a  few  perfunctory  questions 
about  the  happenings  here  since  he  left,  but  he  vol- 


294  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

unteered  no  information  as  to  what  kind  of  business 
it  was  which  had  taken  him  away,  nor  where  he  had 
been. 

After  breakfast  we  established  ourselves  in  the  li- 
brary, he  with  a  batch  of  newspapers  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  from  the  city  and  I  had  a  new 
magazine,  but  he  seemed  to  care  little  for  reading, 
and  he  sat  and  smoked  in  moody  silence  for  a  while. 
The  day  was  warm,  but  the  sunshine  of  the  early 
morning  grew  fainter,  and  by  noon  there  were  signs 
of  a  thunder-shower,  the  clouds  seeming  to  gather 
from  all  directions ;  and  the  air  became  oppressively 
heavy. 

Richard  finally  threw  away  the  end  of  his  cigar, 
yawned  a  time  or  two  in  an  abstracted  sort  of  fash- 
ion, then  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the  window. 
He  pulled  aside  the  curtains  and  looked  out  at  the 
threatening  sky. 

"Get  your  hat  and  let's  go  out  for  a  little  fresh 
air  before  it  rains,"  he  suggested  as  he  came  back 
and  threw  himself  into  his  chair  again,  stretching 
out  his  long  legs  to  the  fire. 

I  got  up  obediently  and  started  toward  the  door, 
but  he  reached  out,  caught  my  hand  and  stopped  me. 

"Isn't  it  a  devilish  old  day?"  he  said  lazily,  as  he 


THE    DOUGLAS    IN    HIS   HALL     295 

drew  me  down  toward  him.  "You  haven't  kissed 
me  once  since  I  came  home.  Don't  you  love  me 
any  more?" 

"Love  you?  Of  course  I  love  you!"  I  answered, 
kissing  him  on  the  forehead  and  smoothing  back 
his  fair  hair.  I  had  entirely  forgotten  the  traitorous 
thoughts  of  the  early  morning.  "But  you  have  been 
in  such  a  mood !  Who  wants  to  kiss  something  that 
looks  about  as  lover-like  as  Rameses  II  ? 

He  smiled  a  little  and  took  my  face  between  his 
hands. 

"I  am  a  savage,"  he  admitted,  though  not  at  all 
bearing  the  appearance  of  one  at  that  moment ;  "but 
I've  had  a  lot  to  try  me  lately — and  then  I  was  so 
disgusted  when  I  came  home  and  found  that  mother 
had  let  Evelyn  dance  herself  into  another  of  these 
attacks." 

"Oh,  Richard!  Surely  you  don't  really  think  it 
was  the  dance  that  brought  it  on?  It  might  have 
been  the  dinner — but  I  shouldn't  even  suggest  that  to 
your  mother.  She  is  miserable  enough  already.  You 
ought  to  try  to  comfort  her." 

"That's  very  charitable  of  you,"  he  said,  a  sar- 
castic little  flicker  around  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
"but,  all  the  same,  I  find  that  I  can  manage  my  worn- 


296  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

enkincl  better  to  use  a  little  frankness  with  them 
occasionally." 

I  drew  back  from  him  somewhat. 

"Frankness?"  I  cried  in  genuine  surprise  at  his 
cold  sarcasm.  "Even  if  frankness  were  the  right 
name  for — this,  do  you  consider  that  now  is  the 
time  for  it?  When  she  is  so  wretched?" 

He  turned  from  me  and  threw  down  the  paper  he 
had  picked  up  a  moment  before  as  I  stood  talking 
to  him. 

"Let's  don't  quarrel,"  he  said  finally,  in  a  low 
tone;  and,  impulsively  reaching  out  both  hands  to 
me,  he  added:  "And,  Ann,  for  God's  sake,  don't 
ever  act  as  if  you  were  afraid  of  me !" 

"Afraid  of  you!" 

He  smiled.  I  think  he  has  the  most  adorable  smile 
of  any  man  on  earth. 

"Go  and  get  your  hat,"  he  said. 

As  I  came  down-stairs  again  with  my  hat  on  T 
found  Sophie  standing  at  the  front  door  talking 
with  Richard.  She  was  dressed  entirely  in  the  garb 
of  a  nurse  by  this  time,  and  I  looked  admiringly  at 
the  becoming  white  uniform,  but  Richard  made  no 
reference  to  the  change  nor  anything  that  it  entailed. 

"Sophie  thinks  that  we  would  better  not  go  very 


THE   DOUGLAS   IN    HIS    HALL     297 

far,"  he  said  to  me  as  he  stepped  outside  into  the 
vestibule  and  looked  up  again  at  the  clouds.  "She 
says  Evelyn  is  not  resting  so  well — and  mother,  of 
course,  has  entirely  lost  her  grip." 

"Do  you  think  that  there  is  any  new  danger  in 
Evelyn's  case  ?"  I  asked  anxiously. 

"Well,  we  are  eager  for  the  surgeon  to  get  here 
as  quickly  as  possible,"  she  answered. 

"He'll  be  here  on  the  noon  train,  and,  of  course, 
he  can  operate  immediately.  And  it  hasn't  been 
nearly  twenty-four  hours  since  the  onset  of  the 
acute  attack.  The  mortality  is  less  than  one  per  cent, 
if  taken  within — " 

I  had  1been  looking  into  Sophie's  eyes  as  I  spoke 
and  had  not  observed  that  Richard  was  listening 
intently  to  what  I  was  saying,  but  as  I  made  use  of 
this  last  bit  of  medical  jargon  a  contemptuous  little 
half -laugh  brolce  from  him  and  I  looked  up  quickly. 
He  was  smiling  sardonically. 

"Of  course  your  friend,  Doctor  Morgan,  is  your 
authority,"  he  said,  his  brows  elevated  and  a  dis- 
agreeable expression  around  his  mouth"* 

"He  is — and  I  couldn't  ask  a  better,"  I  flashed 
back  at  him. 

We  stood  thus  a  moment,  our  eyes  meeting  in 


298  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

fiery  challenge,  and  in  that  brief  moment  I  realized 
that  such  a  scene  repeated  a  few  times  would  cause 
us  to  hate  each  other.  I  felt  suddenly  as  if  the 
earth  were  receding  from  me  and  leaving  me  in  a 
very  uncertain  stratum  of  air.  I  was  violently  angry 
with  Richard — and  he  was  infuriated. 

"It's  a  pity  the  public  continues  to  display  such 
a  lamentable  ignorance  in  regard  to  this  wonder- 
ful Hippocrates  of  yours,"  he  sneered,  though  in 
an  even  voice. 

"That  ignorance  is  growing  less  every  day,"  I 
responded  easily,  so  easily,  in  fact,  that  I  am  sure 
Sophie  never  suspected  that  we  were  both  at  white 
heat. 

But  she  was  embarrassed  at  the  bad  taste  we  were 
both  exhibiting,  so  she  made  some  excuse  and 
quickly  left  us.  We  walked  slowly  down  toward  the 
gate,  not  that  there  was  any  joy  left  in  the  prospect 
of  a  quiet  walk  together,  but  because  there  seemed 
nothing  better  to  do  right  then.  Out  through  the 
gate  and  quite  a  distance  up  the  street  we  passed  be- 
fore either  of  us  spoke,  and  I  noticed  once  that  his 
right  hand,  which  clasped  his  slender  silk  umbrella, 
was  trembling. 

"Ann,"  he  said  finally,  speaking  in  a  remarkably 


THE   DOUGLAS    IN    HIS   HALL     299 

low,  gentle  voice,  "why  does  it  seem  to  give  you  such 
pleasure  to  torture  me  that  way  ?" 

"Torture  you?"  I  answered.  "Oh,  Richard!  Why 
should  you  torture  yourself  into  a  passion  if  I  but 
mention  anything  even  remotely  connected  with  the 
medical  profession?" 

"Medical  profession!"  His  voice  was  still  very 
quiet.  "You  would  imply  then  that  I  am — that  / 
am  jealous  of  this  yearling  doctor?" 

There  was  infinite  contempt  in  the  word  "year- 
Hng." 

"I  don't  imply!"  I  responded  warmly.  "I  have 
good,  clear  English  for  what  I  wish  to  say." 

"You  certainly  have  for  all  that  you  wish  to  say 
about  this  paragon  of  yours." 

"He  is  a  paragon ;  but  he  isn't  mine." 

"No  ?  I  wonder  why  ?  You  certainly  might  have 
won  him!" 

Was  this  a  lovers'  quarrel  ?  I  had  always  heard 
them  spoken  of  as  being  frivolous,  make-believe  dis- 
agreements, whose  sting  was  light  as  thistle-down 
and  whose  shadows  were  quick  to  disappear  at  the 
dawn  of  a  beloved  smile.  But  if  this  were  true,  then 
my  altercation  with  Richard  was  a  much  more  seri- 
ous affair,  for  I  found  my  patience  strained  to  the 


300  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

breaking  point  when  I  finally  burst  out :  "Richard, 
hush!  This  is  disgraceful!  I  will  not  quarrel  with 
you  any  longer.  You  make  me  wish  that  I  had 
never  seen  your  face!" 

My  vehemence  seemed  to  startle  him  out  of  his 
own  wrath,  or,  at  all  events,  it  acted  as  a  signal  to 
him  that  he  was  to  go  no  further,  for  he  began  to 
retract;  not  humbly,  not  penitently,  as  if  he  had 
found  himself  in  the  wrong,  but  with  a  sudden 
sparkling  brilliance,  his  eyes  and  his  smile  dazzling 
my  senses  as  they  did  the  sunny  afternoon  we  spent 
together,  sitting  on  the  orchard  fence. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  I  have  seen  your  face,"  he  said 
fondly,,  as  he  looked  down  upon  me  with  that  same 
air  of  possession,  "for  you  are  the  prettiest  little 
spitfire  I  ever  saw." 

He  suggested  that  we  walk  up  to  the  river  side, 
not  a  great  distance  away,  but  it  is  as  secluded  a  spot 
as  if  it  were  miles  away  from  human  habitation. 
There  are  thickets  of  undergrowth  just  beyond  a 
skirt  of  woods,  and  a  stone  wall  where  we  might 
sit  down  for  a  quiet  little  talk. 

We  made  for  this  spot  in  silence,  and,  as  he  placed 
a  strong,  lithe  hand  on  either  side  of  my  waist  to 
lift  me  bodily  up  on  the  wall  he  said,  with  that  same 


THE    DOUGLAS    IN    HIS    HALL     301 

directness  of  manner  which  I  found  characterized 
his  speech :  "Ann,  I  beg  your  pardon — ten  thousand 
times,  sweetheart !  Will  you  forgive  me — and — and 
kiss  me  ?" 

His  lips  were  already  upon  mine,  and  I  knew  then 
that  there  was  nothing  in  this  life  so  beautiful  and 
sweet  and  intoxicating  as  their  touch.  I  gave  myself 
up  to  the  exquisite  madness  with  an  abandon  which 
shuts  out  all  knowledge  that  Richard  and  I  are  not 
comrades,  not  even  friends — that  we  have  no  ideals 
in  common,  no  similar  tastes!  What  does  all  this 
matter  when  he  has  his  arms  about  me  and  I  am  so 
close  to  him  that  I  can  hear  the  quick  thump,  thump 
of  his  heart-beats,  and  I  know  how  they  quicken  for 
me !  Nothing  matters !  I  love  him ! 

"That's  my  own  little  girl,"  he  said  radiantly,  as 
he  lifted  his  face  from  mine  and  saw  my  entire 
surrender.  "This  is  the  first  moment  to-day  that  I 
have  felt  as  if  you  really  love  me." 

He  dusted  off  a  space  on  the  wall  then  sprang 
lightly  up  to  a  seat  by  my  side. 

"I've  been  waiting  for  you  to  brighten  up  a  bit 
and  look  like  yourself,"  he  continued  after  a  few 
minutes  of  happy  silence.  "I  have  something  to 
show  you." 


302  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"Something  to  show  me?"  I  looked  at  him  won- 
deringly. 

"Something  I  brought  you  from — from  the  city." 
"But  I  told  you  not  to  bring  me  anything." 
"I  know.     But  I  had  already  bought  it  then,  and 
I  couldn't  take  it  back  to  the  jeweler  and  tell  him 
that  my  lady  had  turned  it  down,  could  I  ?" 

He  drew  a  little  case  from  his  pocket,  a  long,  slen- 
der one  this  time,  and  as  I  found  my  eyes  fixed  with 
an  eager  fascination  upon  his  hands  as  they  worked 
for  a  moment  with  the  catch,  I  seemed  to  see  stretch- 
ing before  me  a  long  vista  of  years,  each  one  punctu- 
ated with  quarrels  like  the  one  we  had  just  endured, 
and  the  rough  places  left  by  these  ruptures  filled  in 
and  smoothed  over  by  myriads  of  these  small,  dainty 
jewel-boxes.  But  Richard's  deft  fingers  had  opened 
the  case,  and  he  passed  it  over  to  me.  I  gave  a  little 
gasp  of  astonished  delight  as  I  saw  lying  upon  its 
bed  of  velvet  a  string  of  pearls — white,  softly-glis- 
tening, beautiful  things. 

"Let's  see  how  they  look  on  you,"  he  suggested, 
unfastening  the  dull  gold  clasp  and  slipping  the 
lovely  chain  around  my  neck.  He  fastened  them  se- 
curely, then  smiled  approval  as  he  leaned  back  and 
viewed  the  effect. 


THE   DOUGLAS   IN    HIS   HALE     303 

"I've  wanted  you  to  have  something  like  this  ever 
since  I've  known  you,"  he  said  with  the  air  of  a 
connoisseur  as  he  still  held  back  and  looked  at  the 
pearls  lying  close  around  the  neck  of  my  collarless 
blouse.  "So  when  I  happened  to  see  these  the  other 
day  in — the  city,  I  decided  that  they  were  exactly 
what  I  wanted  for  my  little  girl." 

I  was  opening  and  shutting  the  box  as  he  talked, 
and  when  he  mentioned  seeing  them  in  the  city  I 
idly  glanced  at  the  name  on  the  lining,  and  saw  that 
the  case  bore  the  name  of  a  well-known  firm  in  St 
Louis. 

"Why,  Richard,"  I  cried,  "did  you  go  all  the  way 
to  St.  Louis  to  find  them?" 

I  laughed,  but  there  were  two  tiny  lines  between 
his  eyes. 

"Don't  say  anything  about  it  to  mother,  but  the 
truth  is  I  did  have  to  go  to  St.  Louis  while  I  was 
away  from  home  this  time." 

"Your  mother  thinks  you  were  down  in  some  little 
country  town — away  from  a  telephone !" 

"Well,  it  was  a — business  trip.  She  wouldn't  be 
interested,  and  I  never  have  believed  in  a  man  boring 
his  family  with  his  business  affairs." 

"I  shouldn't  be  bored,  Richard,"  I  began.  Hoping 


3o4  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

so  fervently  that  he  was  going  to  confide  in  me  that 
half  the  joy  I  should  have  been  feeling  over  my 
beautiful  new  possession  was  turned  into  pain  when 
I  saw  that  he  was  not. 

He  changed  the  subject  quietly  and  we  discussed 
various  minor  matters,  until  I  remembered,  with  a 
start,  that  it  was  time  for  us  to  be  going  home.  It 
must  be  long  past  noon.  I  mentioned  this  to 
Richard  and  he  jumped  down  immediately. 

"I  haven't  heard  the  train  whistle,  have  you  ?" 

"No,  but  we  haven't  been  listening  for  it.  Look 
at  your  watch." 

He  did  so,  and  we  were  both  surprised  and  not  a 
little  ashamed  when  we  saw  that  it  was  half -past 
one. 

"We'll  have  to  hurry,"  he  said  briefly,  and  we 
walked  home  faster,  I  dare  say,  than  ever  lovers 
walked  away  from  that  delightful  spot  before. 

When  we  reached  the  house  we  found  that  the 
doctor  from  the  city  had  indeed  arrived ;  the  prep- 
arations for  the  operation  being  well  under  way. 
There  was  not  to  be  an  hour's  delay,  Sophie  told  us, 
as  she  paused  on  her  way  up  the  steps.  Her  hands 
were  full  of  glistening  instruments,  and  a  negro 
servant  followed  with  kettles  of  boiled  water. 


THE    DOUGLAS    IN    HIS    HALL     305 

"What  does  Gordon  think  of  her  condition?" 
Richard  asked,  as  he  eyed  Sophie's  burden  with  a 
little  shrinking. 

"Doctor  Gordon  couldn't  come,"  she  answered  ab- 
stractedly as  she  looked  around  and  gave  the  servant 
some  directions  about  keeping  a  bountiful  supply  of 
water  that  had  been  boiled,  "there  was  a  wreck 
on  the  road  that  he  is  surgeon  for — it  didn't  amount 
to  much,  but  still  he  had  to  be  there,  so  he  telephoned 
Doctor  Cooley  that  this  young  colleague  of  his 
whom  he  sent  to  do  the  operation  is  thoroughly 
competent — it  seems  that  they  operate  together  a 
great  deal.  I  didn't  catch  the  young  doctor's  name 
when  he  was  introduced — and  I've  been  too  busy 
since  to  ask." 

"Doctor  Morgan,"  I  said,  feeling  sure  that  Doctor 
Gordon  would  send  no  one  but  Alfred  on  a  case  like 
this. 

"Doctor  Morgan — the  devil  it  is!"  Richard's  voice 
burst  out  so  suddenly  and  so  fiercely  that  I  turned 
and  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  I  realized  how  easy  it  might  be  to  be  afraid  of 
him.  Fierce  and  sudden  as  the  words  were,  they 
were  spoken  in  his  deep,  even  voice,  and  not  a  muscle 
of  his  face  showed  the  intense  fury  which  I  felt 


306  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

that  he  was  laboring  under.  It  was  a  cold,  cruel 
anger,  and  it  showed  only  in  his  eyes.  They  were 
glittering  like  two  sharp-pointed  steel  blades.  "Doc- 
tor Morgan  here — and  you  knew  all  the  time  that 
he  was  coming!" 

He  looked  at  me  so  accusingly  that  Sophie  sensed 
the  point  of  the  situation  at  once,  although  she  had 
never  heard  Alfred's  name  mentioned  before;  and 
she  broke  in  with  a  light  laugh. 

"Why,  he  didn't  know  himself  that  he  was  coming 
until  ten  minutes  before  train  time.  It  was  too  late 
even  to  find  a  nurse  to  bring  with  him,  so  I  am  going 
to  help  in  the  operation." 

Her  words  had  the  effect  of  quieting,  in  a  measure, 
this  insane  suspicion  of  Richard's ;  and  he  and  I  fol- 
lowed her  up  the  broad  staircase.  She  led  the  way 
into  the  room  which  had  been  hastily  divested  of  its 
rich  furnishings  and  transformed  into  a  semblance 
of  an  operating-room;  and  we  two  followed  auto- 
matically. Sophie  passed  in  and  began  busying  her- 
self about  the  preparations,  but  just  inside  the  door- 
way we  stopped. 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  near  the  end 
of  a  long  table  upon  which  had  been  placed  several 
bowls  of  water,  some  clear,  others  light  blue,  his 


THE   DOUGLAS    IN   HIS   HALI]     307 

top  shirt  off  and  his  arms  up  to  his  elbows  thickly 
coated  over  with  a  soft  lather,  was  Alfred.  Another 
young  fellow,  whom  I  afterward  learned  was  a 
local  physician,  stood  near  the  table ;  and  he  too  was 
busily  "scrubbing  up."  As  we  came  into  the  room 
Alfred  bade  Sophie  hurry  up  with  her  own  prepara- 
tions. 

"Would  you  object  to  hearing  a  word  from  me 
before  your  manipulations  go  further?"  Richard's 
voice  broke  in,  after  the  briefest  and  most  perfunc- 
tory of  greetings,  which  fortunately  were  divested 
of  any  hypocritical  handshaking  on  account  of  Al- 
fred's green  soapiness.  "I  understand  that  our  fam- 
ily physician,  Doctor  Cooley,  telephoned  to  the  city 
for  Doctor  Gordon  to  come  down  here  and  operate 
upon  my  sister." 

"Doctor  Gordon  received  the  message,  but  was 
detained  by  a  small  wreck  on  the  Eastern,"  Alfred 
said  quietly,  rinsing  the  soap-suds  from  his  hands 
and  motioning  Sophie  to  drop  another  bichloride 
tablet  into  the  next  bowl  of  water.  "He  sent  me  to 
do  the  work." 

"So  I  have  been  informed,"  Richard  said,  his 
eyes  looking  far  colder  and  more  cutting  than  the 
steel  instruments  which  Sophie  was  now  rattling 


3o8  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

about  in  a  big  pan,  "but — as  it  happens — I  don't 
want  you  to  do  the  work." 

The  insult  was  so  barefaced  and  so  ugly  that 
Sophie  suddenly  turned  scarlet  and  the  young  doctor 
bending  over  the  bowl  of  water  busied  himself 
unnecessarily  with  a  bottle  of  green  soap.  Richard 
himself  began  nervously  tampering  with  his  watch- 
fob,  while  I  afterward  recalled  that  my  fingers  were 
playing  convulsively  with  the  pearls  which  were  still 
around  my  neck.  It  was  an  electrical  moment  and 
we  all  showed  signs  of  weakening  before  the  current 
— all  except  Alfred. 

He  stood  in  the  same  spot  at  the  end  of  the  table, 
directing  straight  at  Richard  his  level,  steady  glance, 
and  looking  the  personification  of  simple  dignity — 
in  an  undershirt. 

"That  might  put  a  different  aspect  upon  the  mat- 
ter," he  said  slowly  after  a  moment's  deliberation. 
Not  a  muscle  of  his  face  changed,  and  no  one  less 
well  acquainted  with  him  than  I  am  could  have  de- 
tected the  hardness  in  his  voice. 

"Might  put  a  different  aspect?"  Richard  looked 
incredulous. 

"Yes,  it  might — if  the  patient  were  a  minor,  and 
you  her  sole  guardian." 


THE    DOUGLAS    IN    HIS    HALL     309 

"Ah!    Then  you  mean  to  ignore  my  rights?" 

"I  do — if  you  wish  to  put  it  that  way.  Your 
sister's  condition  is  critical ;  and  there  is  no  one  else 
to  operate." 

"Then  there  is  no  appeal  to  be  made  to  your 
pride?"  I  do  not  know  what  Richard  meant,  nor 
do  I  believe  that  he  knew  himself,  for  he  surely 
would  not  have  run  the  risk  of  trying  to  get  another 
surgeon  when  it  had  been  made  so  clear  to  him  that 
the  delay  would  be  fatal.  Alfred  seemed  to  realize 
that  there  was  no  more  occasion  for  argument  than 
if  he  had  been  talking  to  an  unreasonable  child — or 
a  dangerous  lunatic. 

"No;  my  pride  lies  dormant  in  a  case  like  this," 
he  answered  simply.  "I  acknowledge  only  Duty." 

Then,  at  Alfred's  words,  it  seemed  that  the  magic 
change  which  I  have  before  noticed  comes  over 
Richard  when  he  sees  that  he  has  gone  far  enough, 
began  to  make  itself  felt.  It  appeared  that  he  was 
not  going  to-  have  the  courage  to  turn  about  and 
apologize,  as  he  had  done  with  me  earlier  in  the  day ; 
but  he  began  to  do  what  he  considered  all  that  was 
ever  necessary  from  him  to  ordinary  mortals.  He 
began  to  back,  sullenly. 

"Of  course,  if  it  is  only  an  ordinary  case  of  ap- 


3io  AX   THE    AGE    OF    EVK 

pendicitis  you  might  do,"  he  admitted  grudgingly, 
"but — suppose  there  are  complications?" 

I  give  Richard  credit  for  not  intending  this  worst 
insult  of  all.  He  was  so  entirely  absorbed  in  gain- 
ing his  own  end,  and  that  end  was  proving  to 
Alfred  that  he  was  incompetent  to  operate,  that  he 
failed  to  consider  the  words  he  used.  To  him  this 
was  only  a  simple  argument  in  favor  of  his  theory. 
Alfred  met  the  thrust  as  he  had  met  the  minor  ones. 

"If  there  are  complications,  I  shall  grapple  with 
them,"  he  answered  quietly.  "That's  what  I  studied 
surgery  for." 

Sophie  came  across  the  room  then  and  told  us  in 
a  low  voice  that  they  were  about  ready.  Would  we 
please  wait  outside?  Without  another  word  Rich- 
ard took  me  by  the  arm  and  we  walked  out  to- 
gether. He  held  my  arm  tightly  as  we  made  our 
way  cautiously  down  the  steps ;  cautiously  because  it 
had  suddenly  grown  very  dark  and  there  were 
threatening  rumbles  in  the  distance,  following  vivid 
flashes  of  lightning.  The  fumes  of  the  anesthetic 
were  filling  the  house,  while  outside  the  big  drops 
of  rain  were  beginning  to  pelt  down,  making  little 
comet-shaped  streaks  of  wetness  against  the  win- 
dow-panes. 


THE   DOUGLAS    IN    HIS   HALL     311 

We  heard  the  shuffling  steps  as  they  moved  Evelyn 
into  the  room  and  placed  her  upon  the  table ;  then  we 
heard  Alfred  call  from  the  head  of  the  steps,  his 
voice  calm  and  unruffled  as  it  would  be  in  the  case  of 
any  gentleman  making  a  request  of  another. 

"Mr.  Chalmers,  will  you  call  the  power-house  and 
have  them  turn  on  the  lights?" 

Hours  after,  when  it  was  all  safely  over  and 
Sophie  earnestly  supplemented  the  local  doctor's 
praise  of  Alfred's  skill  and  'technique,  Richard 
sought  me  out  as  I  stood  alone  in  the  dining-room 
locking  up  the  silver.  I  had  seen  Mrs.  Chalmers  do 
this  and  knew  that  it  was  a  habit  of  hers;  and  to- 
night there  was  no  one  else  to  do  it. 

"Ann,"  he  said,  coming  close  and  looking  around 
to  make  sure  that  there  was  no  one  else  near,  "Ann, 
I'm  really  sorry  about  what  I  said  to  that  fellow, 
Morgan,  this  afternoon.  Of  course  I  didn't  intend 
any  aspersions  upon  his  ability,  but  I  suppose,  ac- 
cording to  their  infernal  ethics,  it  was — discourte- 
ous." 

I  picked  up  a  soft  flannel  case  and  wrapped  a 
handful  of  heavy  forks  in  it.  "Yes,  I  dare  say  he 
considered  it  so,"  I  agreed. 

"I've  wondered  what  I  can  do  to  make  amends," 


312  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

he  continued.  "Do  you  think  I  might  double  the 
amount  of  his  fee?" 

"No,  no/'  I  begged  earnestly,  a  sudden  sense  of 
disgust  at  the  thought  of  such  a  thing.  "No,  don't 
try  to  offer  Alfred  money.3' 

Poor  Richard !  Was  there  nothing  in  the  world 
he  could  do-  except  trample  upon  people's  feelings 
then  offer  to  pay  them  to  get  in  a  good  humor  again  ? 
He  had  insulted  Alfred,  who  was  a  hero,  then  sug- 
gested offering  him  money  to  wipe  out  the  stain. 
He  had  neglected  and  offended  me  this  miserable 
day — but  he  had  given  me  a  string  of  pearls ! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   IDES   OF    MARCH 

OVE'S  second  summer,"  was  the  name 
Mammy  Lou  bestowed  on  the  troubled  period 
of  my  engagement  with  Richard  Chalmers  which 
followed  the  portentous  events  chronicled  in  the  last 
few  chapters. 

"A  love  affair  ain't  no  different  from  a  baby," 
she  would  say  to  me  sometimes,  as  her  quick  eye  saw 
that  all  was  not  going  well,  and  her  maternal  pity 
for  me  caused  her  to  forgive  the  disappointment  I 
had  given  her  in  my  choice  of  a  lover.  "It's  bound 
to  have  some  miz'ry  as  well  as  joy  mixed  along  with 
it.  Why,  you  can't  no  more  make  true  love  run 
smooth  than  you  can  play  a  'juice  harp'  with  false 
teeth." 

True  love!  Oh  the  irony  of  the  words!  So  many 
months  have  passed  since  the  happenings  that  I 
last  recorded  that  I  can  look  back  now  and  dispas- 
sionately dissect  even  the  motives  of  many  things 

313 


3i4  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

which  transpired  during  that  gilded  year.  For  it 
proved  to  be  only  a  gilded  year,  while  I  thought  at 
the  time  that  it  was  a  golden  one.  And  I  can  see, 
among  many  other  strange  and  bewildering  things, 
that  at  the  moment  I  saw  Alfred  Morgan  stand  up 
and  bravely  defy  Richard's  selfish  tyranny,  the  scales 
seemed  to  fall  from  my  eyes  and  I  knew  then  which 
was  the  false  and  which  the  true.  That  I  did  not 
act  upon  this  knowledge  and  follow  the  dictates  of 
my  intuition,  I  afterward  regretted  more  poignantly 
than  it  often  befalls  the  lot  of  a  girl  to  rue  a  guilt- 
less deed. 

On  that  November  night  when  I  stood  in  the  din- 
ing-room and  counted  out  and  stored  away  the 
Chalmers'  family  silver  while  Richard  stood  by  and 
suggested  appeasing  Alfred's  outraged  pride  by  a 
gift  of  money,  I  felt  an  almost  overpowering  desire 
to  fly  precipitately  away  from  the  great,  gleaming 
house  with  its  Midas-like  master,  who,  as  I  remem- 
bered for  the  first  time  with  a  shudder,  was  also  my 
master. 

The  storm  without,  which  had  broken  so  violently 
at  the  hour  of  the  equally  violent  storm  within,  and 
between  those  two  strong  and  determined  spirits, 
had  spent  its  force  during  the  afternoon,  and  when 


THE   IDES    OF    MARCH  315 

the  dreary  night  closed  down  there  was  a  sharp  wind 
from  the  east,  and  the  rain  changed  into  a  driving 
sleet. 

Out  into  this  Alfred  went,  and  I  stood  at  the  door 
with  him  as  we  said  good-by,  until  the  piercing  wind 
blew  in  and  brought  with  it  a  little  shower  of  light 
sleet,  which  it  scattered  over  the  inlaid  floor. 

"I'll  be  in  the  city  for  a  day  or  two  next  week," 
I  said  as  he  held  out  his  hand  and  looked  with  a 
slight  shiver  out  into  the  icy  blackness  through 
which  he  must  pass.  "I'll  see  you  then." 

For  the  moment  I  had  forgotten  that  Alfred  and  I 
no  longer  saw  each  other  when  I  was  in  the  city.  I 
had  failed  to  remember  the  fact,  and  also  the  circum- 
stances leading  up  to  it. 

"But  I'm  leaving  for  New  York  Saturday  night," 
he  said  briefly,  as  he  pulled  a  little  closer  the  big 
storm  collar  of  his  heavy  coat,  and  slipped  on  his 
long  automobile  gauntlets.  He  had  left  the  city  so 
hurriedly  that  he  had  not  had  time  to  exchange 
these  for  ordinary  gloves.  " — And  I  sail  on  the 
following  Wednesday." 

"Oh !    So  this  is  good-by  then  ?" 

"Yes — for  all  time,  I  suppose.  You'll  be  married 
long  before  I  get  back." 


316  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

We  were  standing  alone  at  the  door  which  led  out 
to  the  driveway  and  there  was  a  motor-car  a  few 
feet  away  puffing  softly  a  warning  to  hurry;  Rich- 
ard was  somewhere  near,  in  the  front  part  of  the 
house — but  I  thought  not  of  his  anger  if  he  should 
find  me  in  such  a  plight ;  I  did  not  stop  to  remember 
that  Alfred  was  in  danger  of  missing  his  train; 
above  all  I  did  not  recall  that  only  a  few  months 
before  I  had  had  the  chance  of  making  a  decision 
which,  if  differently  made,  would  have  put  such  a 
different  aspect  upon  the  world's  cold  blackness  this 
miserable  night — I  remembered  nothing,  except  that 
Alfred  was  going  away  from  me — and  I  had  already 
seen  my  mistake.  Giving  way  completely  as  this 
mighty  knowledge  came  bearing  down  upon  the 
tired,  aching  nerves  of  my  brain,  which  had  already 
been  working  at  over-tension  for  the  past  many  days, 
I  covered  my  face  with  my  hands  and  gave  vent  to 
the  sobs  and  tears  which  seemed  to  have  been  gath- 
ering in  my  heart  since  I  had  last  seen  Alfred.  Now 
he  was  going  away,  and  I  was  to  see  him  no  more ! 

"Ann,"  he  begged,  as  he  quickly  stripped  off  the 
long  gauntlets  and  started  to  put  out  his  hand, 
"don't!  For  God's  sake  don't  cry !  I've  stood  a  lot 
to-day,  but  I'll  swear  I  can't  stand  that." 


THE   IDES   OF    MARCH  317 

"If  you've  stood  a  lot,  don't  you  think  that  I  have, 
too  ?"  I  demanded  in  a  low  voice,  the  convulsive  little 
catches  in  my  throat  making  speech  difficult.  I  had 
lost  all  power  of  self-control  for  the  moment,  and  I 
think  that  if  Richard  had  come  out  into  the  hall  at 
that  instant  and  demanded  an  explanation  I  should 
have  frankly  given  it.  Many  times  through  the  suc- 
ceeding months  I  regretted  bitterly  that  he  had  not. 

Alfred's  hand  started  out  toward  me  again  at  my 
passionate  words,  and  caught  mine  this  time,  drag- 
ging them  gently  down  from  my  face  as  he  com- 
pelled my  eyes  to  meet  his. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded.  "Is  he  un- 
kind to  you,  too?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  unkind,"  I  stammered,  half  fright- 
ened at  the  sudden  turn  of  our  conversation.  "Cer- 
tainly not  unkind.  He  is  the  soul  of  generosity — but 
we  don't — get  along  well — together."  I  broke  down 
weakly  in  my  speech,  for  the  sense  of  disloyalty  was 
strong  upon  me,  and  I  felt  that  it  was  almost  as 
grave  a  crime  to  recount  the  faults  of  a  lover  as 
those  of  a  husband. 

But  Alfred's  face  was  very  serious,  and  if  my 
perfidy  made  any  impress  upon  him  it  was  lost  in 
the  mazes  of  a  greater  problem. 


3i8  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"That  is  what  I've  been  afraid  of,"  he  said  in 
almost  the  same  tones  he  had  used  when  he  made 
a  similar  remark  upon  my  telling  him  I  cared  for 
Richard.  "I  thought  you  would  find  that  your  na- 
tures are — incompatible." 

"Incompatible?  Oh,  Alfred,  if  we  marry  we'll 
r fight!"  I  sobbed,  burying  my  face  in  my  hands  again, 
and  forgetting  the  lover  Alfred  in  the  dear  friend 
whom  I  could  always  go  to  with  a  trouble.  And  I 
would  be  willing  to  stake  anything  in  life  that,  in 
that  moment,  he,  too,  had  forgotten  that  he  was  my 
lover. 

"Well,  that  is  a  very  serious  question,  and  one 
which  you  will  have  thoroughly  to  thresh  out  before 
it  is  too  late,"  he  said,  his  bright  brown  eyes  anxious 
and  troubled.  He  looked  down  upon  me  with  in- 
finite sympathy. 

"And  you  are  going  away  so  soon — and  for  so 
long?" 

"Well,  if  I  were  not  going  away  I  could  no  longer 
be  a — a  friend  to  you,  Ann ;  for  I  am  not  capable  of 
giving  you  unbiased  advice,  and  that  is  what  you 
need.  It  would  be  a  great  temptation  to  make  cap- 
ital for  myself  out  of  your  troubles  with — him;  and 
I  can't  lower  myself  this  way.  So  don't  grieve  over 


THE   IDES   OF    MARCH  319 

my  going  away,  and — take  council  with  your  mother 
and  Mrs.  Claybome.  I  am  not  the  one  to  advise  you 
in  this  case." 

So  he  went  out  into  the  blackness ! 

From  New  York,  the  day  he  sailed,  he  wrote  me 
a  note  saying  that  he  could  not  leave  without  telling 
me  some  things  which  he  could  not  honorably  speak 
of  while  we  were  in  Richard  Chalmers'  house  that 
night ;  and  those  things  were  that  his  own  feeling  for 
me  would  never  change;  if  years  passed  before  I 
ever  felt  that  I  needed  him  I  was  to  send  for  him 
just  as  confidently  as  I  would  to-day.  No  matter 
what  decision  I  came  to  in  regard  to  my  marriage 
with  Richard  Chalmers  he  would  never  approach  me 
again  in  the  light  of  a  lover  until  I  sent  for  him,  the 
note  ran  on ;  and,  as  I  read  this  last  I  looked  up  and 
smiled  into  vacancy  over  the  thought  of  how  proud 
and  high-minded  he  is.  He  gave  me  the  address  of 
a  London  hospital  and  said  that  if  I  cared  to  write 
to  him  at  any  time  within  the  next  few  weeks  the 
letter  would  reach  him  there. 

But  I  did  not  write  to  him  within  the  next  few 
weeks. 

On  the  morning  after  Alfred's  departure  from 


320  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

Charlotteville  I  came  down-stairs  early  and  found 
Richard  in  the  breakfast-room.  He  was  smiling 
radiantly  as  he  looked  up  and  saw  me ;  then  he  threw 
aside  his  morning  paper  and  pulled  up  a  chair  close 
to  the  fire. 

"Evelyn  is  doing  splendidly;  the  political  news  is 
to  my  liking;  there  are  fresh  trout  for  breakfast,  and 
— here's  a  rose  for  your  hair,  my  lady-love,"  he  said, 
holding  out  to  me  a  perfect  bud  of  pearly  whiteness. 
A  box  of  them  had  come  on  the  early  train  from  a 
friend  of  Evelyn's  in  the  city,  and  Richard  had  pur- 
loined the  most  beautiful  one  for  me. 

The  ground  outside  was  white  and  there  was  the 
sharp  little  sound  of  sleet  against  the  window-pane, 
but  the  breakfast-room  was  a  scene  of  glowing 
cheer.  A  Japanese  tea-service  was  on  the  table,  and 
the  trout,  which  Richard  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  from  a  passing  fisherman  that  morning, 
was  broiled  to  a  most  delicious  brown  and  seemed  to 
be  enjoying  its  repose  upon  its  bed  of  water-cress. 
A  steaming  pot  of  hot  water  was  presently  brought 
in  and  placed  beside  my  plate,  and  the  tea-ball  was 
brought  to  me.  I  was  to  make  the  tea  and  Richard 
and  I  were  to  breakfast  together. 

"This  strikes  me  as  being  a  happy  arrangement," 


THE    IDES    OF    MARCH  321 

he  said,  smiling  what  I  had  often  called  his  "twenty- 
one-year-old  smile,"  for  when  he  wore  it  it  was 
difficult  for  me  to  believe  that  he  was  as  far  ad- 
vanced in  the  thirties  as  I  knew  him  to  be.  "This 
looks  quite  married  and  home-like,  doesn't  it — Mrs. 
Chalmers?" 

Richard  seldom  jested  about  our  marriage,  and  he 
never,  but  this  one  time,  made  reference  to  the  name 
which  would  be  mine  when  we  married.  Such  a 
jest  on  the  morning  before,  when  he  had  just  come 
in  from  his  trip  and  was  the  personification  of 
gentlemanly  grouch,  would  have  made  all  the  world 
radiant  to  me ;  but,  as  it  was,  I  blushed  painfully  as 
he  spoke  the  name — and  he  took  the  blush  at  its  face 
value. 

"Ah,  madam,  I  see  that  the  thought  pleases  you !" 
he  kept  on  banteringly  as  my  hand  trembled  a  little 
over  the  tea-ball.  "Perhaps  this  is  my  opportunity 
for  pressing  my  suit — isn't  that  what  they  call  it  in 
novels?  It  smacks  too  much  of  the  tailor  shop  to 
suit  my  taste,  however. — But  honestly,  Ann,  I  do 
want  us  to  make  arrangements  for  our  marriage  the 
first  minute  this  nomination  business  is  over.  What 
do  you  say,  dear  heart  ?" 

Again,  if  the  question  had  been  asked  yesterday 


322  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

morning  it  would  have  made  a  startlingly  different 
impression,  but,  as  it  was  this  morning,  I  parried. 

"I  say  that  we  are  two  very  selfish  and  thoughtless 
young  people  to  be  talking  about  such  things  while 
Evelyn  is  lying  up-stairs  so  ill — and  your  mother  in 
such  distress,  Richard,"  I  answered. 

"Well,  we'll  not  say  another  word  about  it,  if  it 
troubles  you,  sweetheart,"  he  said  gently.  Then 
after  a  moment  he  added :  "I  never  expect  to  do  any- 
thing to  hurt  you,  even  a  little  bit,  again." 

"  You  mean—  ?" 

"I  mean  as  I  did  yesterday — about  Morgan,  you 
know.  Did  you  notice  how  I  stayed  clear  away  last 
night  while  you  went  to  the  door  with  him?  But," 
resuming  his  tone  of  persiflage,  "you  were  there  an 
unreasonable  time,  it  seems  to  me.  Now,  tell  your 
rightful  lord  what  you  two  cronies  were  talking 
about." 

"About  his  trip,"  I  said  quickly,  spilling  a  little 
tea  upon  the  cloth  and  vigorously  mopping  it  up 
with  my  napkin.  "He's  going  to  Europe  next 
week." 

"Well,  he's  a  pretty  decent  chap,  although  he  does 
look  deucedly  young  to  be  cutting  into  people — don't 
you  think  so?"  he  asked,  not  that  he  really  did  think 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  323 

so,  for  Alfred  is  quite  old-looking  for  his  years,  but 
he  thought  it  would  place  him  in  a  better  light — the 
way  he  acted  yesterday. 

"Oh,  you'd  like  a  bearded  old  surgeon  who  learned 
so  much  technique  before  the  war  that  he  hasn't 
needed  to  learn  any  since,"  I  answered,  and  the 
breakfast-hour  passed  away  with  this  kind  of  light, 
bantering  talk. 

From  that  day  Richard  set  about  being  the  most 
agreeable  companion  when  we  were  together,  and 
the  most  devoted  lover  when  we  were  separated  that 
it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  meet  in  fact  or  fiction.  I 
left  Charlotteville  the  next  day  and  he  followed  me 
up  to  the  city  on  the  fourth  day  thereafter,  as  soon 
as  the  doctors  pronounced  Evelyn  out  of  danger.  I 
had  not  intended  stopping  over  in  the  city  any  length 
of  time,  but  I  found  Cousin  Eunice  in  a  state  of 
despair  over  the  progress,  or  lack  of  progress,  of 
her  new  book. 

"Do  stay,"  she  begged,  as  I  announced  this  in- 
tention to  her,  "at  least  until  I  get  through  with  the 
proposal.  It's  as  hard  to  get  your  hero  to  propose 
nicely  as  it  is  to  get  the  gathers  of  a  sleeve  to  set 
right.  There's  always  either  too  much  or  too  little 
in  a  given  spot.  And  it's  so  provoking,  when  I'm 


324  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

right  in  the  midst  of  such  a  delicate  situation,  to 
have  Pearl  call  out  to  me  from  the  foot  of  the  steps : 
'Mrs.  Clayborne,  here's  a  jepman  at  the  do'  want's 
to  know  if  your  husban's  a  householder  and  a  free- 
holder.' 

"  'Tell  him  yes,  and  a  slave-holder/  I  yell  back  at 
her;  for  any  woman  who  really  keeps  house  is  a 
slave." 

"What  do  'jepmen'  want  to  ask  such  fool  ques- 
tions for?"  I  asked  wonderingly. 

"To  avoid  election  frauds.  You  see  there  is  so 
much  deviltry  right  now  in  politics  that  the  law-en- 
forcement faction  is  sending  men  around  all  over  the 
city  to  find  out  every  voter,  and  if  he  has  the  right  to 
vote." 

"Well,  what  good  does  it  all  do?" 

"None;  but  it  gives  the  poor,  overworked  house- 
wives one  more  trip  to  the  front  door,  in  the  course 
of  the  day. — Then  there  are  agents  selling  non-rust- 
ible  wired  bust- forms.  Pearl  never  knows  what  to 
say  to  them,  either." 

"Mercy,  what  should  one  say?"  I  demanded, 
thinking  all  of  a  sudden  that  maybe  my  task  was 
going  to  be  too  large  for  me. 

"Say  anything  that  comes  to  your  mind,  just  so 


THE    IDES   OF   MARCH  325 

it's  unfit  for  publication — nothing  milder  will  do  for 
them,"  she  answered  bitterly. 

"And  Waterloo  doesn't  give  you  any  trouble 
while  you're  trying  to  work,  does  he?"  I  inquired. 

"Happily  no,  for  Grapefruit  is  his  consolation 
and  his  joy.  Never  were  there  such  ways  of  a  nurse- 
maid with  a  man  child.  Never  has  anybody  in- 
vented such  tales  and  games — " 

"And  spitting  contests,"  I  interpolated. 

"It's  true  she  taught  him  that  ugly  habit,"  she 
responded  with  some  dignity,  "but  all  boys  learn  it 
sooner  or  later." 

So  I  stayed  and  the  book  grew  like  a  soap-bubble 
the  first  week.  Then  Pearl's  brother  got  into  that 
condition  which  is  always  described  by  our  colored 
servants  with  much  gusto  and  rolling  of  white  eye- 
balls as  "  'bout  ter  die,"  and,  whether  he  ever  dies  or 
not,  is  a  matter  that  the  housekeeper  knows  nothing 
of.  But  the  servant  always  leaves,  and  she  did  in  this 
case;  and  upon  the  Sunday  morning  thereafter  the 
gas  stove  in  the  Clayborne  home  looked  as  if  gan- 
grene had  set  in  on  it.  I  had  magnanimously  in- 
sisted on  doing  the  cooking;  and  I  didn't  know  be- 
fore that  a  gas  stove  had  to  be  washed  as  often 
as  a  new-born  baby. 


326  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

Cousin  Eunice  came  out  of  her  cataleptic  state  on 
Sunday  morning,  for  she  is  ashamed  to  write  on  the 
type-writer  that  day  for  fear  Waterloo  will  tell  it  at 
Sunday-school — and  she  showed  me  how  to  dispose 
of  the  week-old  egg-shells  and  concentrated  soup 
cans  which  had  accumulated  amazingly  around  the 
fenders  of  the  range. 

"Oh,  I  think  a  literary  ambition  is  an  evil  thing 
sometimes,"  she  said  with  a  deep  sigh,  looking 
around  at  the  house,  which  she  declared  was  enough 
to  give  us  all  bubonic  plague. 

"It  is — er,  disheartening  to  have  you  shut  up  all 
the  week  in  the  little  back  room  up-stairs,"  Rufe  ad- 
mitted, fishing  one  of  his  best  gloves  out  from  be- 
hind the  coal-box.  "When  you're  locked  away  up 
there  the  house  looks  as  empty  as  a  hotel  bureau- 
drawer — and  that's  the  emptiest  thing  on  earth." 

"I  know  it,"  she  answered,  looking  at  him  sympa- 
thetically. " — Besides,  it's  wearing  to  have  a  book 
for  ever  in  your  mind.  Inspiration  is  so  uncertain 
— and  so  urgent.  I've  had  it  strike  me  while  I  was 
washing  my  hair ;  and  it's  far  from  pleasant  to  have 
to  dash  the  soap  out  of  your  eyes  while  you  search 
all  over  the  house  for  your  note-book  and  pencil — 
and  the  water  drips  down  all  over  the  furniture." 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  327 

"It  must  be,"  Rufe  agreed. 

"And  here  lately  I've  grown  so  absent-minded 
that  when  I  go  down-town  for  a  little  shopping  I 
have  to  dress  with  my  memorandum  in  my  mouth  to 
keep  from  going  off  and  forgetting  it." 

But  on  Monday  morning  genius  was  burning 
again,  and  I  stayed  through  that  week,  but  only  in 
the  capacity  of  a  protection  against  interruptions. 
We  got  another  cook,  for  Pearl's  brother,  like 
Charles  II.,  was  "an  unconscionable  time  a-dying." 
Richard  came  every  day  and  every  night  and  was  so 
attentive  to  the  whole  family  that  Rufe  rather  sar- 
castically asked  one  day :  "Ann,  is  Chalmers  court- 
ing you  or  me?" 

Rufe's  words  meant  little  to  me  then,  but  later 
they  kept  recurring  to  my  mind  with  a  persistency 
that  would  make  Banquo's  ghost  appear  like  a  tame 
and  laggard  thing.  Was  Richard  hoping  to  gain, 
through  his  friendship  with  me,  the  support  of  the 
Times?  He  knew  that  if  Rufe's  personal  influence 
could  not  bring  about  an  actual  support  of  him  in 
the  coming  campaign  it  would  be  a  factor  in  having 
the  paper  judge  his  manipulations  with  a  lenient 
eye. 

And  now  this  finally  brings  me  up  to  that  mis- 


AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

erable  day  the  following  spring,  the  Ides  of  March, 
it  was,  when  the  skies  fell ;  and  they  never  fell  upon 
a  more  wretched,  more  humiliated,  more  bitterly 
disciplined  young  woman. 

As  I  have  said,  Richard  had  made  an  ideal  fiance 
throughout  the  time  which  followed  that  miserable 
parting  with  Alfred,  and  I  had  occasion  many  times 
to  wonder  if,  after  all,  I  might  not  have  been  mis- 
taken about  the  incompatibility  of  our  natures.  Be- 
sides, the  fascination  of  the  handsome,  physical 
Richard  Chalmers  was  still  there;  perhaps  it  was 
never  so  strongly  and  bitterly  there  as  on  the  fif- 
teenth of  March  that  I  have  just  mentioned. 

As  the  winter  wore  away,  Richard's  visits  down 
home  here,  in  the  country,  had  been  much  further 
apart,  especially  since  the  time  for  the  actual  political 
fight  drew  nearer;  and,  from  this  fact  and  from 
the  newspapers'  more  volcanic  outbursts,  I  knew 
that  a  gubernatorial  contest  was  about  to  take 
place. 

But  I  should  never  have  known  it  from  the  man 
who  was  most  concerned  in  the  race,  for,  during  all 
this  time,  Richard  never  confided  one  hope  nor 
fear  of  his  to  me ;  and  I  see  now  that  it  was  not  be- 
cause he  "didn't  want  to  bother  my  pretty  little 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  329 

head  about  such  things,"  as  he  occasionally  stated, 
with  a  fond  smile,  but  because  he  judged  me  to  be 
exactly  of  the  same  intellectual  stripe  as  his  mother 
and  Evelyn.  He  thought  that  I  would  not  have 
sense  enough  to  understand  the  situation. 

Richard  had  been  out  of  town  a  good  deal  lately 
on  business  trips,  and  the  meeting  that  morning  in 
March,  at  Rufe's  office,  was  in  the  nature  of  an  acci- 
dent. Richard  had  not  known  that  I  was  in  the  city 
for  a  day's  shopping,  so  when  we  accidentally  ran 
across  each  other  on  the  street,  the  Times  build- 
ing was  the  nearest  place  we  might  drop  into  for  a 
little  talk. 

"Well,  you  are  taking  your  campaign  hard,"  I 
said,  as  I  looked  at  him  critically  after  Rufe  had 
assured  us  that  we  might  have  the  whole  morning 
without  interruption,  in  his  own  particular  little 
den,  as  he  was  going  to  be  out  in  town.  Then  Rich- 
ard had  asked  him  to  give  orders  that  we  were  not 
to  be  interrupted,  as  he  particularly  wished  for  a 
little  talk  with  me. 

"Ann,  I've  had  enough  to  run  any  man  crazy 
since  I  saw  you  last,  dear,"  he  said  wearily,  in  an- 
swer to  my  comment  on  his  looks.  He  dropped 
down  into  the  nearest  chair  and  put  up  one  hand  to 


330  AT    THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

shade  his  eyes  from  the  brilliant  morning  glare. 
"This  political  business  is  the  most  infernal — " 

"What,  Richard?" 

He  was  looking  steadily  into  my  eyes,  but  at  my 
question  he  looked  away;  then  after  a  moment 
moved  his  chair  over  closer  and  caught  up  my  left 
hand. 

"I'm  in  a  devil  of  a  mess,  love,"  he  said  after  a 
little  inward  struggle — then  with  that  charming 
directness  of  his  he  ventured — "I  want  you  to  prom- 
ise to  help  me  out." 

"Of  course  I  will,"  I  readily  agreed. 

"Oh,  that's  not  the  kind  of  promise  I  want,"  he 
instantly  objected.  "Say  it  solemnly.  Say,  Til 
promise  to  stick  to  you.' ' 

"Why,  Richard,  you  make  me  fear  that  something 
is  seriously  wrong,"  I  cried  in  sudden  alarm,  for  my 
sense  of  oneness  with  him  had  grown  so  amazingly 
since  those  months  between  the  time  of  my  visit  to 
Charlotteville  and  then,  and  I  felt  as  entirely  identi- 
fied with  his  interests  as  if  we  were  already  married. 
His  attitude  toward  me  at  the  breakfast-table  the 
morning  after  Alfred's  departure  was  a  key-note  to 
the  manner  in  which  he  strove  every  day  after  that 
to  cement  this  relation;  and  I  know  now  that  this 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  331 

was  an  immense  factor  in  causing  me  to  allow  the 
engagement  to  exist  through  those  days  of  doubt. 
I  had  always  felt  that  an  engagement  was  very 
nearly  as  binding  as  a  marriage — and  Richard  had 
always  exercised  such  a  charming  right  of  posses- 
sion. 

"Something  is  seriously  wrong,  Ann,"  fie  said 
gravely,  and  his  eyes  held  mine  in  a  sort  of  fas- 
cinated wonder;  "and  I  expect  you  to  stand  by  me." 

His  manner  was  very  grave ;  and  he  seemed  to  be 
in  a  serious  doubt  as  to  whether1  or  not  I  would 
stand  by  him. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  I  suggested  as  patiently  as  I 
could,  for  I  was  trembling  with  uneasy  eagerness. 

"Give  me  your  hand  and  swear  that  you  will  stick 
to  me." 

"Oh,  sweetheart,  I'll  stick  to  you  if  you're  a  horse- 
thief,"  I  said,  trying  to  force  a  laugh. 

"Then  listen !  You  know  that  I  want  to  be  gov- 
ernor of  this  state — " 

I  nodded  my  head. 

" — And  the  temperance  party  is  about  to  go  back 
on  me  because  they  think  that  Major  Blake  and  I 
are  going  to  form  a  separate  faction  and  leave  out 
the  liquor  question." 


332  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"Well,  that  is  just  what  we  are  going  to  do — to 
save  the  state  from  the  Republicans." 

"Well?" 

"And  Blake  is  going  to  work  up  the  campaign 
for  me — on  the  condition — " 

My  blood  was  pounding  like  fire  through  my 
veins,  but  I  felt  absolutely  unable  to  move.  I  knew 
what  he  was  going  to  say  and  my  heart  was  pleading 
for  mercy,  but  my  lips  were  mute.  They  could  not 
even  move  enough  to  say,  "I  know  it  all.  Don't  say 
the  hideous  words."  Richard  had  grown  painfully 
embarrassed,  and  he  stammered  awkwardly : 

" — on  the  condition  that  I  become  his  son-in- 
law." 

Just  what  happened  after  this  I  do  not  know.  I 
might  sit  here  all  night  trying  to  recall  his  explana- 
tions and  protestations,  but  I  shall  get  through  with 
it  all  as  speedily  as  possible,  for  all  I  really  remem- 
ber about  that  terrible  day  is  that  I  felt  dreadfully 
ill — and  benumbed,  I  listened  in  a  sort  of  trance  to 
his  recital  of  how  Berenice  Blake  had  labored  under 
an  hallucination  for  some  time  that  he  cared  for 
her ;  and  she  had  learned  to  return  the  fancied  affec- 
tion ;  how  very  ill  she  was,  so  ill  that  when  she  came 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  333 

home  for  Thanksgiving  it  was  found  that  she  would 
have  to  go  right  back  to  Denver — 

"And  you  went  as  far  as  St.  Louis  with  them — 
and  brought  me  a  string  of  pearls,"  I  said  in  a 
dazed  fashion. 

"Yes,  I  always  think  of  you  first — no  matter 
where  I  am,"  he  answered,  looking  at  me  fondly. 
"And  our  love-affair  will  not  even  be  suspended 
for  very  long,"  he  went  on.  "She  can't  possibly  live 
six  months ;  and  her  father  wants,  above  everything 
on  earth,  that  she  shall  be  happy  for  the  little  while 
that  she  has  to  live." 

"By  marrying  you." 

"By  being  engaged  to  me.  I  would  not  marry  her 
— there  is  no  necessity  for  that." 

"And  you  are  asking  me  to  release  you?" 

"I  am  not,"  he  said  very  firmly.  "I  am  asking 
you  to  give  me — a  leave  of  absence." 

Some  unknown  power  seemed  to  put  the  words 
into  my  mouth,  for  I  was  not  conscious  of  any  effort 
toward  thinking. 

"But  I  release  you,  Richard.  I  could  not  be — 
mixed  up  in  that  kind  of  thing." 

He  sprang  from  his  chair  and  caught  me  violently 
in  his  arms. 


'334  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

"That's  just  what  you're  not  going  to  do.  You 
are  mine.  You  are  going  to  stick  to  me." 

"I  said  that  I  would  stick  to  you  if  you  were  a 
horse-thief,"  I  said  slowly.  " — But  not— this." 

"Oh,  Ann,  you  are  breaking  my  heart,"  he  cried, 
as  he  caught  me  close  to  him  and  buried  his  head  on 
my  shoulder.  "You  can't  mean  to  throw  me  over." 

"You  are  kind  to  put  it  that  way,  Richard,"  I 
said. 

"You  are  a  sensible  girl,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly 
as  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  me  again.  "You 
must  listen  to  reason  and  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you  in 
this  matter.  Then  all  will  be  well.  The  affair  will 
be  nothing  more  than  a  make-believe  between  us  all, 
for  Major  Blake  knows  that  I  do  not  love  the  poor, 
homely,  half-dead  creature;  the  betrothal  will  have 
no  more  feeling  in  it  than  a  stage  kiss.  The  only 
deception  you  will  have  to  practise  will  be  to  an- 
nounce your  own  engagement  to  some  one  else  this 
week,  so  that — " 

"This  week?  My  own  engagement?  Richard, 
what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean  just  this,  my  poor  little  girl,"  he  began, 
his  deep  gray  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  his  hands,  as 
they  held  mine,  trembling  piteously,  " — that  if  the 


THE    IDES    OF    MARCH  335 

story  gets  noised  abroad  that  I — I  hate  even  to  sug- 
gest such  a  thing,  Ann,  it  is  so  far  from  truth,  dar- 
ling— but  if  the  story  gets  noised  abroad  that  I  jilted 
you  it  will  harm  my  prospects,  as  well  as  being  a 
humiliation  to  you." 

"Oh,  I  see." 

"So  I  thought  you  might  announce  your  engage- 
ment to  some  one  else — of  course,  just  for  a  pose, 
but—" 

"But  there  isn't  any  one  else." 

His  eyes  glanced  into  mine  for  a  moment,  then 
sought  the  floor. 

"I've  thought  of  all  that,"  he  said  easily.  "But 
you  know  that  Alfred  Morgan  would — would — " 

"Would  let  me  use  his  name?" 

"Oh,  Ann,  don't  look  so  queer  and  unnatural, 
dear ;  you  frighten  me !  You're  not  going  to  faint, 
nor — anything,  are  you  ?"  he  began,  looking  around 
helplessly. 

"I'm  not  going  to  faint,"  I  assured  him  with"  a 
little  smile  that  was  forced  up  from  somewhere  in 
the  depths  of  my  misery.  "But  I'm  not  going  to 
use  Alfred's — nor  any  other  man's  name  in  the  way 
you  suggest." 

"It  is  only  to  save  yourself  humiliation,  dear,"  he 


336  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

said,  looking  annoyed  and  relieved  at  the  same  time. 
"Oh,  I'll  take  the  humiliation  for  my  part,"  I  said, 
but  with  no  evidence  of  anger  nor  reproach.  I  was 
still  stunned  and  benumbed.  "I  can  stand  the  hu- 
miliation— but  I  hate  a  liar." 

So  it  ended  this  way — that  beautiful  dream  of 
mine;  and  I  should  not  tell  the  truth  if  I  pretended 
that  I  did  not  wish  many  times  in  the  bitter  weeks 
which  followed  to  close  my  eyes  to  the  cruel  reality 
and  dream  again,  even  knowing  all  the  while  that  it 
was  a  dream. 

No,  there  was  no  sense  of  thankful  relief  that  I 
had  found  my  knight  of  the  lion  heart  to  be  a  poor- 
spirited,  craven,  selfish  thing.  Not  then!  At  the 
time  of  the  revelation  and  for  many  days  following 
I  gave  myself  up  to  a  bitter,  longing  sorrow  for 
the  man  whom  I  had  created  out  of  my  own  fancy 
and  had  named  King  Richard.  I  had  made  the 
image  as  entirely  as  ever  Pygmalion  made  Galatea, 
and  I  had  worshipped  it.  I  had  loved  it  so  that  if 
its  coming  to  life  could  have  been  brought  about 
through  my  giving  up  my  own  I  should  gladly  have 
let  it  live.  But  it  would  not  come  to  life,  for  it  was 
nothing — it  was  a  dream-creature.  Even  as  such,  its 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  337 

image  continued  with  me,  and  I  sorrowed  for  it  with 
such  an  aching,  lonely  hopelessness  that  more  times 
than  once  during  the  spring  months  of  that  year  I 
felt  that  it  was  not  within  my  nature  to  keep  up 
the  struggle  any  longer.  I  must  give  it  up  and  send 
for  Richard  to  come  back. 

The  palq  blue  of  the  flowers  which  came  up  and 
blossomed  in  thousands  along  the  hillsides  of  the 
"garden"  back  of  the  village,  and  the  deep  blue  of 
the  April  skies  were  both  turned  to  gray  this  spring 
— the  cold,  piercing  gray  of  his  eyes.  They  had  not 
been  cold  for  me ! 

And  then  a  little  later  there  was  the  "humiliation" 
he  had  mentioned.  Possibly  he  did  what  he  could 
to  make  this  as  light  as  it  might  be  made,  for  his 
engagement  to  Major  Blake's  daughter  was  not 
publicly  announced  until  several  weeks  after  I  felt 
sure  the  understanding  had  been  reached.  But  he 
could  not  ask  her  to  keep  the  betrothal  a  secret,  as 
he  had  asked  me,  for  his  capital  must  be  quickly 
and  surely  made  from  its  brief  existence. 

Taking  a  new  lease  on  life  from  this  sudden  and 
mighty  happiness  of  hers,  the  poor,  dying  creature 
came  home  from  Colorado  and  set  about  a  fever- 
ish enjoyment  of  the  brief  span  of  time  which 


338  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

was  left  her.  There  were  crowded  arrangements 
made  for  the  wedding,  which  was  announced  for 
June — after  the  primaries  were  well  over — and  she 
had  the  satisfaction  of  having  her  full-length  picture 
appear  in  all  the  prominent  newspapers  of  the  state, 
all  bearing  the  legend  that  she  was  Mr.  Richard 
Chalmers'  fiancee.  The  sight  of  these  pictures, 
homely  as  they  were,  was  no  consolation  to  me,  for 
I  had  never  been  jealous  of  her.  And  now  I  felt 
an  infinite  pity. 

I  used  often  to  think  with  a  laugh  of  scorn  of  the 
man  I  had  imagined  Richard  Chalmers  to  be,  mak- 
ing love  to  the  poor,  ugly,  emaciated  thing,  in  hopes 
of  gaining  her  father's  political  favor!  For  of  course 
he  had  made  love  to  her  all  along,  just  as  he  had  to 
me,  in  the  same  beautiful  language,  and  with  the 
same  beautiful  smile — but  he  had  not  kissed  her.  I 
could  fancy  him  telling  her  of  his  great  admiration 
and  his  mighty  respect,  and  how  unworthy  he  was 
to  touch  the  hem  of  her  garment — when  all  the  while 
he  was  thinking  how  ugly  she  was  and  what  a  risk 
there  might  be  of  his  catching  tuberculosis! 

Poor  girl!  She  was  happy,  though,  for  her  little 
while,  tagging  around  the  country  with  her  father 
and  Richard,  and  watching  him  adoringly  as  he 


THE    IDES   OF   MARCH  339 

made  his  pretty  speeches  to  the  enthusiastic  crowds 
of  constituents.  But  she  played  the  game  too  quick 
and  fast,  and  with  such  a  studied  disregard  for  con- 
sequences that  it  was  no  wonder  the  end  came  so 
soon.  She  spent  the  most  uncertain,  changeable 
weeks  of  the  time  which  is  ever  an  ominous  one  for 
consumptives  in  driving  through  long  stretches  of 
damp  country  roads,  then  sitting  for  hours  in  stuffy, 
ill-ventilated  little  assembly  rooms,  where  the  foul 
air  did  its  deadly  work  for  her.  She  contracted  pneu- 
monia and  died;  and  Mr.  Chalmers  canceled  all 
speaking  dates  for  one  week ! 

But  she  died  still  thinking  her  Richard  was  a  lion- 
hearted  king,  so  who  can  say  that  Fate  was  not 
kind  to  her? 

That  there  was  an  aftermath  to  my  own  affair 
with  Richard  was  almost  inevitable,  for  only  in 
books  do  such  bubbles  burst  and  vanish  entirely, 
leaving  nothing  in  their  wake.  But  this  is  the  true 
record  of  what  happened  that  spring  and  summer, 
and  undignified  and  inartistic  enough  these  happen- 
ings ofttimes  were.  If  Fate  had  wished  to  bring 
the  matter  to  a  beautiful  and  asthetic  close  she  would 
never  let  Richard  and  me  meet  again  in  this  world, 
for  oh,  those  after-meetings  are  bitter  dregs  of  ro- 


340  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

mance!  But  we  met  again — on  the  night  of  his  de- 
feat, a  strange  chance  meeting  it  was,  for  he  was 
standing  at  the  door  of  his  headquarters  hotel,  which 
is  just  across  the  street  from  the  Times  building,  try- 
ing to  make  way  for  his  mother  and  Evelyn,  when 
I  passed  with  the  Claybornes.  Evelyn  saw  me  and 
called  out  a  surprised  greeting,  so  I  was  forced  to 
stop  for  a  moment,  while  Rufe  and  Cousin  Eunice, 
never  missing  me,  continued  threading  their  way 
slowly  across  the  street 

Richard  stood  very  pale  and  weary  looking,  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  while  I  spoke  to  Mrs.  Chalmers 
and  Evelyn ;  then  seeing  that  I  had  been  left  alone 
he  gravely  suggested  that  I  could  never  make  my 
way  through  the  crowd  by  myself,  so  he  sent  his 
mother  and  sister  up-stairs  and  constituted  himself 
my  temporary  knight  errant.  His  hand,  which 
tightly  clutched  my  arm,  as  we  struggled  on,  was 
icy  cold ;  and  the  lines  around  his  eyes  made  him  look 
decidedly  middle-aged.  Clearly  he  had  already  real- 
ized his  defeat,  although  the  returns  were  only  be- 
ginning to  be  flashed  before  the  eyes  of  the  cheering 
throng. 

He  walked  with  me  to  the  elevator  of  the  Times 


THE   IDES   OF   MARCH  341 

building,  and  the  great  mirror  in  the  back  of  the  car 
held  our  two  images  a  moment  as  he  lifted  his  hat 
and  turned  to  leave  me.  The  reflection  held  a  whole- 
some lesson  as  I  gazed  for  an  instant  upon  the  fea- 
tures of  the  handsome,  blase,  middle-aged  man,  then 
glanced  at  myself  in  my  short-sleeved  white  gown, 
with  my  rounded  elbows  showing  youthfully.  Yes, 
I  was  undeniably  young;  and  I  felt,  even  in  the 
midst  of  my  sorrow  for  him,  a  little  thrill  of  satis- 
faction that  it  was  so. 

It  was  a  week  or  two  after  his  defeat  that  Richar'd 
began  a  renewal  of  his  lover-like  attitude  toward 
me,  calling  me  on  the  telephone  and  asking  permis- 
sion to  come,  and  again  bombarding  the  express 
office  with  boxes  of  candy  and  flowers.  .When 
I  gave  abnormally  polite  refusals  to  these  requests 
he  would  usually  acquiesce  with  his  half  amused 
smile,  which  I  could  see  just  as  plainly  as  if  only  a 
few  feet  lay  between  us,  instead  of  many  miles. 

"You  are  a  stubborn  little  vixen,"  he  would  say 
sometimes.  "How  long  do  you  expect  to  keep  this 
up?'" 

And  if  he  had  studied  the  matter  over  carefully 
and  tried  to  hit  on  a  means  of  curing  me  of  my 


342  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

fancy  for  him  he  could  never  have  found  anything 
more  effectual  than  this.  Then  one  day  in  the  early 
autumn  when  all  the  world  was  dreary  and  the  state 
was  so  evidently  going  Republican  that  no  doubt  he 
had  cause  for  his  odd  temper,  Richard  called  me 
again  and  asked  that  a  meeting  might  be  arranged, 
either  at  home  or  in  the  city.  I  began  giving  my 
usual  reasons  for  not  seeing  him,  when  he  cut  me 
short  with  quick  impatience. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  if  you  don't  want  to  see  me," 
he  said  harshly,  his  rich  drawl  entirely  obliterated 
in  the  sudden  anger  which  tinted  his  speech.  "And 
I'll  promise  never  to  give  you  the  chance  again  of 
turning  me  down.  But,  my  dear  Ann,  you  must 
remember  there  was  a  time;  when  I  didn't  have  to 
beg  you  for  every  little  favor  I  got." 

"There  was  a  time!"  Ungenerous,  despicable 
as  this  was,  coming  from  Richard,  I  took  it  with  a 
sort  of  calmness  born  of  the  knowledge  that  it  was 
only  what  I  deserved.  For  I  don't  believe  that  a 
woman  ever  acts  a  fool  over  a  man  but  that  she  lives 
to  have  the  unwholesome  fact  cast  up  to  her  while 
she  is  drinking  the  dregs  of  her  folly.  "There  was 
a  time,"  the  man  is  always  ready  to  remind  her,  oft- 


THE    IDES   OF   MARCH  343 

times  hoping  to  use  this  memory  as  a  lever  to  re- 
move the  aftergrowth  of  indifference  or  positive 
hatred. 

In  this  case  the  words  caused  me  to  feel  something 
very  nearly  akin  to  hatred  for  Richard,  and  I 
quickly  ran  away  up-stairs,  where  I  threw  myself 
across  my  bed  and  gave  way  to  the  storm  of  tears 
which  had  been  brought  on  by  the  angry  selfishness 
of  his  act.  But  tears,  while  they  are  bitter  and 
scalding,  are  also  cleansing,  and  they  acted  that  day 
as  a  purifying  flood  which  washed  my  soul  clean 
from  all  thoughts  of  Richard  Chalmers.  When, 
late  in  the  afternoon  of  that  rainy  day,  I  arose  from 
my  bed  I  was  weak  from  weeping,  and  unutterably 
saddened  over  this  final,  ugly  blow  which  Reality 
had  dealt  the  fragments  of  my  house  which  was 
built  upon  the  sands ;  but,  weak  and  sad  and  world- 
wise,  as  I  felt  myself  to  be,  there  was  a  great  joy 
singing  in  my  heart,  for  I  knew,  for  the  first  time, 
I  knew  that  I  was  free. 

The  next  day  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Jean  asking  her 
to  get  me  several  boxes  of  the  latest  style  gold-edged 
note  paper  with  my  monogram  embossed  thereon, 
and  insisted  that  she  have  the  stationer  hurry  the 


344  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

order  through.  "I  want  the  very  newest  and  most 
exquisite  style  you  can  find,"  I  wrote  her,  "for  I  am 
about  to  begin  a  most  particular  correspondence  and 
if  you  will  take  pity  upon  my  loneliness  enough  to 
run  down  any  time  within  the  next  few  weeks  I'll 
tell  you  the  name  of  my  distant  correspondent.  Yet, 
for  fear  you  will  not  be  able  to  get  here  before  your 
curiosity  consumes  you,  I'll  let  you  into  the  secret 
enough  to  satisfy  you  that  the  gentleman  is  a  'medi- 
cine man*  and  he  is  now  wandering  on  a  foreign 
strand.  And  if  you  should  hear  that  I  have  done 
such  an  unladylike  thing  as  to  send  for  him,  you 
will  know  in  your  heart  that  it  is  not  entirely 
on  account  of  father's  rheumatism  and  Mammy 
IIou's  still  threatening  right  side. 

"But  come,  dear  Jean,  if  you  love  me,  for  I  am 
very  lonesome,  with  absolutely  nobody  but  Neva  and 
her  mother  to  divert  my  mind." 

Poor  little  Neva!  I  must  not  wind  up  this  chap- 
ter without  some  little  word  about  her,  for  there  is 
going  to  be  only  one  more  chapter  after  this,  and 
there  will  be  no  room  for  Neva  in  that.  This  final 
word  may  be  written  next  week — it  may  not  be 
written  until  a  whole  year  has  passed,  but  when- 


THE    IDES    OF    MARCH  345 

ever  it  is  it  will  be  the  last,  for  I  know  that  if  Mam- 
my Lou's  definition  of  the  period  is  correct  it  will 
wind  up  the  age  of  Eve. 

But  Neva !  We  left  her  a  lovelorn  lass  grieving 
over  the  perfidies  of  Hiram,  the  fickle.  We  find 
her  again  a  college  girl,  breathing  academic  atmos- 
phere from  the  tassel  of  her  mortar-board  down  to 
the  rubber  heel  of  her  "gym"  shoes.  She  cares  for 
nothing  but  school,  and  the  sororities  therein.  She 
knows  all  the  places  up  in  the  city  where  one  is  most 
likely  to  come  across  the  college  boys  one  desires 
most  to  see;  and  the  class  of  ices  that  take  the  long- 
est time  to  consume  while  one  is  sitting  watching 
these  boys  pass  by.  She  sometimes  does  not  know 
the  name  of  a  certain  desirable  young  man,  but  she 
always  knows  the  name  of  his  high-sounding  Greek 
letter  brotherhood. 

"She  don't  talk  about  nothing  but  'frats'  and 
'spats'  and  things  like  that,"  her  mother  one  time 
complained  after  a  brief  visit  from  Neva.  "And 
she  calls  some  of  her  mates  by  the  curiousest  names 
I  ever  heard.  There's  one  she  likes  a  good  deal  that 
she  says  is  a  new  Phi  Chi;  and  another  one  that  she 
has  to  look  to  some  because  she's  a  'old  Tau!" 


346  AT    THE    AGE    OF    EVE 

"The  stage  has  to  be  passed  through,"  mother 
said  to  Mrs.  Sullivan  comfortingly,  "for  it's  as  cer- 
tain and  as  harmless  as  chicken-pox." 

But  Mammy  Lou  takes  a  much  more  serious  view 
of  Neva's  collegiate  career  and  high-flown  talk. 

"Education  ain't  no  good  for  girls,"  she  often  de- 
clares emphatically,  "for  it  spoils  their  powers  of 
emmanuel  labor.  You  can  just  as  shore  count  on  a 
educated  girl  makin'  a  lazy  wife  as  you  can  count  on 
damp  weather  makin'  a  baby's  hair  curl  an'  a  ol' 
woman's  feet  hurt!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MAY    DAY 

lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over 
and  gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth; 
the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come,  and  the 
voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land.' ' 

I  quoted  this  bit  of  classic  loveliness  softly  as  I 
looked  out  this  morning  very  early  from  my  bed- 
room window  and  feasted  upon  the  scene  of  sweet 
spring  beauty  which  was  everywhere  spread  before 
my  eyes.  Yet  the  cause  of  the  verse  coming  to  my 
mind  at  the  moment  was  due  much  more  to  the  feel- 
ing in  my  heart  than  to  the  scenery  all  about  me, 
although  each  seemed  a  reflection  of  the  other. 

"How  many  years  ago  to-day  was  it  that  we 
looked  down  into  the  old  well  in  the  lot  and  tried 
to  see  our  future  husband's  face?"  Jean  inquired 
with  a  wistful  little  smile  as  she  came  over  to  the 
window  and  dropped  her  chin  on  my  shoulder,  peer- 
ing out  upon  the  fresh  green  landscape.  One  of 

347 


348  AT   THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

her  arms  slipped  affectionately  around  me,  while 
with  the  other  hand  she  toyed  with  the  fresh  white 
curtain  at  the  window.  It  was  upon  this  hand  that 
there  gleamed  the  ring  which  Guilford  had  at  last 
persuaded  her  to  let  him  place  there. 

"More  years  than  we  are  proud  to  own,  consider- 
ing that  we  are  still  spinsters,"  I  answered  lightly 
and  a  little  at  random,  for  my  thoughts  were  wan- 
dering, though  I  am  glad  to  state  that  they  did  not 
have  such  a  long  journey  to  travel  now  as  formerly. 
Each  of  my  foreign  letters  lately  has  borne  a  post- 
mark a  little  nearer  home. 

"I'm  not  going  to  be  a  spinster  long,  thank  you," 
she  responded  quickly,  holding  her  left  hand  close 
to  her  face  so  that  she  could  catch  some  of  the  myri- 
ads of  tiny  rainbows  in  her  eyes.  "And  I  don't  any 
longer  need  to  look  down  into  an  old  well  upon  this 
magic  day  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  my  future  hus- 
band's face." 

"Still — let's  do  it  again  to-day !" 

"All  right,"  she  agreed  readily,  smiling  at  the 
enthusiasm  of  my  eyes.  "I'm  in  for  anything  that 
will  take  us  out  into  this  glorious  sunshine." 

Throughout  the  course  of  the  morning  we  man- 
aged to  dig  out  from  ancient  trunks  of  debris  two 


MAY  DAY  349 

white  sunbonnets  which  Mammy  Lou  graciously 
freshened  for  us,  plying  her  "raw  starch"  and  sound 
advice  with  equal  vigor  during  the  task.  We  ac- 
cepted the  bonnets  and  admonitions  gratefully,  and 
donning  short  skirts  and  low-collared  blouses  we 
prepared  for  a  tramp  through  the  woods  before  the 
hour  for  the  phenomenon  in  the  well. 

We  had  skirted  around  back  of  the  orchard  fence 
and  had  found  an  ideal  resting-place  under  a  clump 
of  softly  green  sweet-gum  trees,  where  we  might  sit 
in  the  delicate  shade  and  read  the  magazines  we  had 
brought  with  us,  when  there  was  the  sharp,  piercing 
whistle  of  the  eleven  o'clock  train  as  it  sped  close  by 
our  secluded  little  nook  and  drew  up  pantingly  a  few 
moments  afterward  at  the  village  station. 

"Doesn't  that  whistle  sound  close  on  these  clear, 
still  mornings?"  Jean  remarked  with  a  little  start,  as 
she  looked  up  from  her  magazine  and  watched  the 
column  of  smoke  mount  into  the  sunny,  blue  sky. 

"Close,  and  decidedly  cheerful,  I  always  think," 
I  answered,  allowing  my  eyes  also  to  wander  after 
the  smoke  up  into  the  dizzy  heights.  "You  city  peo- 
ple can't  realize  what  the  coming  of  the  trains  mean 
to  us  who  are  tucked  away  in  the  little  country 
towns.  Our  first  thought  always  is,  'Is  there  a  letter 


350  AT   THE   AGE   OF   EVE 

on  that  train  for  me  ?'  Or,  rather,  that  is  my  first 
thought  always.  It's  a  pity  we're  dressed  this  way 
or  we  might  walk  down  to  the  post-office  and  see. 
The  whistle  sounded  so  unusually  musical  this  morn- 
ing that  there  may  be  a  very  important  one.  The 
last  one  I  had  was  from  Liverpool — there  ought  to 
be  one  very  soon  from  New  York !" 

''But  the  old  well !"  Jean  cried  in  sudden  alarm, 
for  she  is  a  sadly  sentimental  creature  and  would 
not  have  missed  the  little  superstitious  performance 
this  morning  for  several  letters — bearing  my  name 
and  address.  "We  are  not  going  to  give  that  up 
now." 

"Well,  we  would  better  be  moving  upon  the  field 
of  operation  then,"  I  suggested,  closing  my  book 
and  starting  to  my  feet.  "That  train  wanders  into 
the  village  at  any  hour  which  suits  it  best,  so  there's 
no  telling  just  what  time  of  the  beautiful  May  morn- 
ing it  is.  Let's  hurry  on  down  to  the  lot  so  that  we 
shall  be  on  the  spot  when  the  first  twelve  o'clock 
whistle  blows.'* 

We  hurried  back  in  the  direction  of  home,  taking 
a  short  cut  which  led  us  through  one  end  of  the 
orchard  and  soon  landed  us  beside  the  clump  of  an- 
cient lilac  bushes  which  form  a  kind  of  hedge  along 


MAY    DAY  351 

the  barbed  wire  fence  of  the  disused  horse  lot.  In 
the  center  of  this  is  the  well,  the  uncovered  frame 
top  of  which  affords  an  excellent  opportunity  for 
this  old-fashioned  May-day  indulgence. 

We  rested  a  bit  in  the  shade  of  the  tall  lilac  hedge, 
but  the  noon-day  whistles  soon  sounded  and  we 
scampered  over  to  the  well  and  laughingly  peered 
in.  There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  in  its  gloomy 
depths,  but  the  day  was  so  beautiful  and  we  were  so 
absurdly  Kghthearted  over  the  divine  order  of  all 
things  in  nature  that  we  refrained  from  making  any 
sarcastic  remarks  on  our  grown-up  sophistication. 

"I  don't  see  Guilford's  face  down  there,  but  I'm 
glad  we  came  out  to  look  for  it;  for  the  walk  has 
made  me  ravenously  hungry,"  Jean  said,  as  we 
straightened  up  and  pushed  our  white  bonnets  back 
from  over  our  eyes. 

"Then  let's  hurry  on  to  the  house,  for  I  am  starv- 
ing, too — and  I  know  that  there  are  delicious  things 
for  dinner.  Mammy  Lou  made  me  promise  to  get 
back  in  time  to  make  the  salad.  There  are  tomatoes 
for  it  and  the  loveliest  young  lettuce  you  ever  saw, 
with  tiny,  slender  onions — not  a  bit  bigger  than  my 
little  finger.  I  can't  bear  them  when  they  grow 
bigger — " 


352  AT   THE   AGE   OF    EVE 

"Ann,  hush !    Let's  don't  waste  time  talking." 

We  hurried  up  through  the  side  yard,  and  as  we 
approached  the  house  there  were  signs  of  an  un- 
wonted stirring  in  the  vicinity  of  the  dining-room 
and  kitchen.  My  spirits  fell  at  the  sight  and  I  inten- 
tionally slackened  my  steps. 

"Unexpected  company  to  dinner,"  I  announced 
dismally  to  Jean,  as  I  saw  mother  flutter  excitedly 
across  the  back  porch,  followed  by  Dilsey  bearing  a 
big  bowl  of  strawberries  to  set  in  the  refrigerator. 
Just  then  mother  caught  sight  of  us  coming  leisurely 
up  the  walk  and  she  made  a  spasmodic  motion  for 
us  to  hurry. 

"Go  on  up-stairs  and  dress,"  she  said  in  a  stagy 
voice  when  we  had  come  within  earshot.  "Dress 
beautifully." 

"Why,  what  on  earth — "  I  started  to  ask,  when 
I  saw  the  transfigured  face  of  Mammy  Lou  at  the 
kitchen  door.  "Some  august  company  to  dinner?" 

"  'Tain't  dinner!  It's  luncheon,"  she  replied 
grandly,  "in  courses.  And  the  chil'ren  o'  Israel 
lookin'  into  Canaan  and  seein'  the  bunch  o'  grapes 
that  it  took  two  men  to  carry  ain't  saw  nothin'  com- 
pared with  what  I've  saw  this  day." 


MAY   DAY  353 

"Good  gracious!  Who  is  here?"  I  demanded, 
much  more  impressed  by  her  calling  the  meal  "lunch- 
eon" than  by  the  weightiness  of  her  Biblical  allusion. 

"Is  there  but  one  man  on  earth  I'd  turn  the  name 
o'  my  vittles  up-side-down'ards  for?"  she  ques- 
tioned meaningly,  gazing  upon  me  with  a  beatific 
glow.  " — And  he's  the  grandest  that  the  Lord  ever 
made  and  put  on  earth  to  be  pestered  with  poll- 
taxes." 

"Alfred!"  I  cried,  a  sudden  burst  of  understand- 
ing and  joy  sweeping  over  me ;  and  leaving  me  very 
weak-feeling  and  happy.  "Alfred  is  coming!" 

"Not  coming,  but  already  here,"  I  heard  his  voice 
saying  close  behind  me.  His  voice!  It  seemed  a 
thousand  years  since  I  heard  it  last ;  and  I  knew  in 
that  moment  that  I  could  listen  to  it  for  a  thousand 
years  without  ever  once  growing  tired. — But  as  I 
turned  and  faced  the  big,  bearded  man  coming 
through  the  hall  doorway,  the  quick  color  flew  to 
my  face  and  I  felt  suddenly  vecy  small  and  insig- 
nificant. For  it  seemed  in  that  instant  that  Alfred 
had  grown  into  a  giant,  a  great,  bearded  giant,  over 
seas — and  I  have  always  had  such  an  admiration  for 
giants. 


354  AT    THE    AGE   OF    EVE 

"Well,  have  I  stayed  away  long  enough?"  he  de- 
manded, as  he  came  on  the  porch  and  took  my  hand. 
Mother  and  Jean  had  fled,  but  Mammy  Lou  stead- 
fastly held  her  ground.  "Are  you  glad  to  see  me, 
Ann?" 

"Yes — yes,"  I  stammered  in  a  mighty  confusion. 

"How  glad?  How  glad,  darling?"  His  brown 
eyes  were  deep  and  grave. — But  the  afternoon  wore 
away  and  the  spring  twilight  had  fallen  before  I 
answered  that  question. 


THE  END 


A     000  045  334     o 


